


Communal Showers: Agency Edition

by SnailedIt_O_V



Series: Communal Showers [2]
Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Betaed by MS Word Read Aloud, M/M, Mild Language, Rare Pairings, Sexual Content, Surprise Pairing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-07-05 07:23:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15858954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnailedIt_O_V/pseuds/SnailedIt_O_V
Summary: STARISH is back with Cecil and QUARTET NIGHT adding to the mayhem – as if seven loosely-connected shower-themed oneshots weren’t enough, I thought I’d do you all a favour and give you eleven more. I know, I know, no need to thank me. I even gave Satsuki a chapter, for all those who pine for Natsuki’s alternate personality. This series is largely (and loosely) based on the second season, since QUARTET NIGHT ends up with a place of their own in subsequent seasons. Again, I’ve aimed for the most unlikely or least common pairings I can think of, and there will no doubt be some accidental OOC in here too. Enjoy!





	1. Satsuki X Cecil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Syo usually sends out a message on the STARISH group chat when Natsuki heads off to the showers, as a heads-up to anyone not wishing to encounter Natsuki’s alternate personality Satsuki. Unfortunately, since Cecil isn’t a member of STARISH, Syo neglects to add him to the group chat…

            Syo’s attention is diverted from his _Prince of Fighting_ script by a stretch and a yawn coming from Natsuki.

            “Tired?”

            “A little,” Natsuki admits, sliding his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes. “I had an idea for a new song, but I’ve reached a point in the arrangement where I’m not sure which direction to go next with the harmony.”

            Syo puts his script aside. “Can I look?”

           “Mmm, if you want,” Natsuki nods. “I think I’ll try to wake myself up with a quick shower. Will you let Ai-chan know where I’ve gone if he gets back before I’m done? The assignment he gave me to work on is on my desk next to the sheet music, but I got stuck on that too, so it’s not done.”

            “Sure, I can do that.” Syo rises from the couch at the exact same moment Natsuki envelopes him in a giant bear hug from behind, punching all the air out of his lungs.

            “Thanks, Syo-chan! You’re the best!”

            “Natsuki, you big idiot! Let go already!” Syo flails around, trying to escape and catch his breath. Natsuki only laughs, squeezes him a little tighter, then lets him go with a smile. He bustles around, gathering his towel and toiletries. Syo watches him leave, waits for two minutes, then pulls out his phone and opens his text message app. He opens a group message labelled “Shower Lemons”, formed specifically for one purpose, and composes a new message:

            <Hey guys, just a heads-up that Natsuki just went to take a shower. Should be safe in about a half hour.>

            One by one, responses from the other guys in STARISH trickle in acknowledging his message. After forming STARISH and starting the Master Course together at Shining Agency, Syo had thought it was only fair to make sure none of his bandmates end up in the hospital by accidentally encountering Natsuki’s alternate personality in the shower room. Of course, he didn’t actually reveal that Natsuki had an alternate personality outright, but with Haruka’s help and a lot of creativity he had convinced the other guys to give Natsuki space when he showers. The name for the group chat came from Syo needing to give the group chat a code name in case Natsuki got a hold of his phone, so he had chosen “shower”, for obvious reasons, and “lemons”, as a reference to Natsuki’s hair colour. It was lame and stupid and terrible coming from someone who supposedly makes a living by writing lyrics, but it was the best he could come up with at the time. Otoya and Ren had practically killed themselves laughing at the name, and even Tokiya and Masato had cracked smiles. Nevertheless, the name had stuck.

            He keeps an eye on his phone screen, smiling a little as he brushes off eraser bits from Natsuki’s unfinished score before picking it up. Ren and Tokiya had looked particularly confused at Syo’s request to let Natsuki shower alone, which made Syo wonder if something had already happened during their time at the academy. However, since neither seemed inclined to explain themselves, Syo had figured that it was probably not worth worrying about, especially since neither had ended up in the hospital as a direct result of encountering Satsuki – if that’s even what happened (Syo’s not even going to think about his own shower room encounters – nope, not at all. Not one little bit.).

 _Let’s see…two responses so far – no, three…_ Syo feels his phone buzz and looks at his screen, slightly worried, but then Ren’s text comes in with a snarky acknowledgement bringing the total up to four. Including himself and Natsuki, all six members of STARISH are now accounted for. Syo breathes a small sigh of relief and starts flicking through Natsuki’s sheet music, reassured that he hasn’t forgotten to warn anyone.

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            Despite his aggressive nature, Satsuki is not completely heartless. After all, his existence is simply a protective extension of Natsuki’s existing personality. For example, he often allows Natsuki to remain in control of himself when he takes his glasses off for a shower or when preparing for bed, as long as there is no threat to Natsuki’s personal or emotional safety. After all, it would be inconvenient – not to mention strange – if Natsuki could never ever remember showering or going to bed, which would likely put Natsuki in danger in a different way. It was just another one of Satsuki’s ways of protecting his innocent, gentler self from harm.

            Unfortunately, Satsuki only ever feels comfortable allowing Natsuki to stay in control _sans_ glasses when he is completely alone – not even Syo counts as completely “safe”, since it’s usually Syo who keeps trying to force Natsuki’s glasses back onto his face. Finding time to shower alone at the academy had been tough, but Satsuki has noticed that these days Natsuki usually gets the shower room all to himself now that they live in the agency’s dorms, probably due to Syo’s meddling – it’s the only explanation possible. Regardless, Satsuki’s not going to complain about anything that works in his favour to protect Natsuki.

            He watches from the back of Natsuki’s mind as Natsuki strips and folds his clothes into a basket on the shelf, laying his glasses carefully on top of the pile. He feels the urge to take over Natsuki’s body but refrains from acting on the impulse – Natsuki’s not in any immediate danger. Natsuki hangs his towel and selects a shower, fiddling with the knobs until the water temperature is just right. Natsuki’s rush of pleasure from experiencing the sudden warmth of the shower courses through Satsuki, and he allows himself to relax and enjoy Natsuki’s contentment. A happy Natsuki is a pacified Satsuki.

            “Oh, hello Natsuki!”

            An unexpected voice causes Satsuki to surge to the forefront of Natsuki’s consciousness, taking over his body to prepare for confrontation. How dare anyone interrupt Natsuki while he’s relaxing and vulnerable! He turns to confront his unexpected shower mate…and locks eyes with a young man sporting the most stunning sea-green eyes Satsuki has ever seen. The guy’s face looks fresh and innocent, but also a little dumb in that happy village-idiot kind of way, and for a moment Satsuki can’t decide if he wants to punch it or protect it. Then his Natsuki-oriented preservation instincts kick in and he tries to focus on determining his next move.

            The newcomer seems not to have noticed Satsuki’s silence and blathers on about something to do with water and desert lands. _Who was this guy again?_ Satsuki wracks his brain, thinking rapidly. _Oh yeah, Aijima Cecil. Aganopolis prince. Royalty always takes advantage of others they consider beneath them, which means he’s a threat. I’ll just crush him here and now before he can think twice about hurting Natsuki._

            “…which is why I usually try to shower alone. It’s a little embarrassing, so just don’t mind me.” Satsuki had been concentrating so hard on deciding how to treat Cecil that he’s missed most of what Cecil had been saying, so he only just catches the tail-end of Cecil’s sentence. He’s about to follow through on his plan to beat Cecil to a pulp but stops short when he notices Cecil’s highly unusual behaviour. His usual scowl deepens in confusion.

            Cecil stands well off to the side of the water streaming from the shower head, adjusting the faucets and testing the water’s temperature by holding two fingers briefly under the water and yanking his hand back, as if the water was about to bite him. When he’s finally satisfied with the temperature, Cecil inches under the water, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Satsuki can see he’s trying to relax. It’s painfully irritating to watch, but also kind of fascinating – not like the “child-like wonder” kind of fascination, but more like the same kind of fascination one might experience while staring at an open wound. He can’t tear his gaze away from Cecil’s face – his eyes are screwed shut, his mouth forming a thin tight line as he works up the courage to stand under the running water. _It’s almost…_ Satsuki pauses. He wants to say pathetic, but Natsuki’s impressions trickle into his mind. Satsuki doesn’t have to work hard to interpret how Natsuki’s feelings would complete his thought if he were in control instead of Satsuki.

_…adorable…_

            “Oh my God, just get under the water already!” Satsuki steps out from under his shower and roughly shoves Cecil under the water, immediately soaking him.

            Cecil unleashes an unholy shriek, setting Satsuki’s ears ringing. “Natsuki, noooooooo! Help! Get me out, get me out, get me out…” He descends into incoherent yelling, mixing Japanese with his native language, struggling violently as Satsuki holds him by his wrists, spread-eagled with his back against the wall.

 _He’s like a drowning kitten_ , Satsuki observes, trying not to slip as he presses Cecil against the wall, restricting his movements. Even though he’s tall and insanely strong, he’s no match for a slick tile floor and a panicking desert prince flailing around. “Shut up already! You’re not dying, it’s just a shower.” Cecil seems not to have heard him and continues wildly trying to escape from Satsuki’s grasp. Swiftly, Satsuki draws both of Cecil’s arms up over his head and wraps one large hand around both wrists, pinning them flush against the wall. With his other hand, he clamps down over Cecil’s mouth, muffling his shrieks. “If you don’t shut up this instant I’ll toss you in the tub and hold you there, dammit!”

            Cecil stops yelling and reduces his flailing to no more than a desperate wiggle. Tears spill from his eyes, mingling with the water from the shower. His eyes are wide with panic, laced with hurt and confusion. _Maybe this is all I need to do to break him so he’ll never even consider messing with Natsuki_ , Satsuki thinks with satisfaction as he stares down into those sea-green eyes. Unexpectedly, his heart lurches in his chest. _Why do those eyes seem so familiar? What is this feeling? No, focus, focus. This is for Natsuki’s protection_.

            Or is it? Technically, Cecil has done none of the usual things that prompts Satsuki to leap into action, and he can’t really help being born into privilege. Being afraid of water is not rational, nor is it a fear restricted to desert princes, but Cecil’s fear has nothing to do with Natsuki’s safety. He frowns, thinking.

            A quiet muffled sob resonates in his palm, snapping him back to the present moment. He moves his hand away from Cecil’s mouth, poised to clamp back down the moment he starts yelling again.

            “N-n-natsuki?” Cecil sniffs. “P-please…let me go…”

            _...afraid…_ Natsuki’s presence whispers.

            “I’m scared.” Cecil’s eyes are filled with tears.

            _…unsafe…_ Natsuki’s fear presses insistently against the back of Satsuki’s mind.

            “I thought you would understand, but…” Cecil sags against the tiled wall, his legs threatening to give way.

            _...betrayed..._ Natsuki’s emotions are practically screaming hysterically in Satsuki’s mind. He suddenly releases Cecil like he’s dropping a hot piece of metal, and Cecil slides down the wall like a ragdoll into a sitting-ish position, breathing heavily, too emotionally wiped out to realize he’s still under running water. Those green eyes, so full of fear and reproach – Satsuki can’t help superimposing a similar set of green eyes on Cecil’s face, eyes he sees every time Natsuki looks in the mirror.

            _What have I done?_ Satsuki holds his head, pressure building in his forehead. He feels like he’s being stretched, twisted, torn in two. He, born from Natsuki’s shock at experiencing betrayal, has betrayed his other self by inflicting uncalled-for pain on this individual who shares Natsuki’s guileless eyes, who approaches the world with the same innocence and wonder Natsuki does. He sinks into a crouch with a groan and presses his hands to his temples, pain radiating through his skull. He can’t handle the inner turmoil – his own actions to pre-emptively protect Natsuki have contradicted his very purpose for existing, and the weight of what he’s done is going to tear him apart and crush his existence from Natsuki’s psyche, leaving Natsuki vulnerable for all time. He can’t stand the thought.

            “Natsuki?” Cecil’s gentle voice penetrates the rushing sound in his ears. “Are you alright?”

            “How…how can you even ask me that, after what I just did?” Satsuki mumbles, not looking up from the tile floor.

            “Ah, well…that is…” Cecil shifts from his sitting position to his knees. “It was really startling and scary, and I really don’t understand why you did it, because scaring me doesn’t seem like a thing you’d normally do. I can’t say I’m not upset or confused, but…you look like you’re in more pain than me right now. Isn’t it normal to be concerned when someone’s hurting? Or is it different in Japan?”

            “Wouldn’t know. I spent a lot of time in France.” Satsuki keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the floor. The grout holding the tiles together beneath his feet has a hairline crack running along one of the horizontal lines, and he traces it with his eyes, focusing on that rather than the searing pain pounding in his head and the guilt wrenching at his heart.

            “I see,” Cecil says quietly. “Well, if you’ll allow me…” Satsuki hears a wet scuffling sound and drags his eyes away from the crack, wary. Cecil’s on his hands and knees, inching towards Satsuki cautiously through the puddles pooling on the floor from the running showers. Water droplets glisten on his tanned skin, and his hair is plastered to his head making it look smoother than its usual fluffy texture. His pendant dangles from his neck, swaying slightly with his every movement, and the colours in the tattoo on his chest seem even more vivid under the shower room’s lighting. His eyes lock onto Satsuki’s, holding him frozen in place. Satsuki is captivated.

            “Hold still,” Cecil murmurs, but it’s a pointless instruction – Satsuki couldn’t move even if he wanted to. His heart is pounding with nerves, and he catches himself taking rapid, shallow breaths. He can only watch as Cecil crawls closer and closer. _What the hell’s wrong with me? Why can’t I move? This isn’t like me – gotta take control, gotta fight back, gotta protect…_ Suddenly Cecil’s collarbones and pendant are all he can see as Cecil stretches up just enough to press a gentle kiss on Satsuki’s forehead. Warmth spreads from where Cecil’s lips press against his skin, soothing the pain in his head.

            _…your heart is warm and kind…_

            _…warmth heals the hearts of those around you…_

_…someday, the darkness you keep locked away…_

            Satsuki’s feet slip out from underneath him and he lands heavily on his ass with a grunt. A split-second later Cecil falls on top of him – he must have grabbed Cecil as he fell. He manages to keep his head from hitting the floor but feels a sharp sudden pain on his collarbone. He feels Cecil place a hand on his chest and push himself up a little, and Satsuki sees him rubbing his jaw. _Ah, that explains the impact_ , he thinks. His head’s still fuzzy from…whatever it was Cecil had just done to him, but at least the pain is manageable. If Satsuki were to retreat into his corner in Natsuki’s mind at this very moment, he feels like he and Natsuki could probably cross the mental divide that currently separates them – they could probably even talk to each other using more than vague impressions and willpower. _But I don’t want that, not yet. It’s better to stay apart, for Natsuki’s sake. I can’t talk to him yet…but maybe…_ he shakes his head. “What did you do?” He can’t help the bad-tempered growl that tinges his words.

            Cecil quails a little but holds Satsuki’s gaze. “It wouldn’t be right to say you’re not yourself, exactly, but…ah, how do I say it?…right now it feels like your sunny self is covered by a shadow.” Cecil lowers himself back down onto Satsuki’s chest, looking closer into his eyes with a puzzled expression. “I expected to find the sun in pain, but it seems like it’s the shadow that’s hurting. Am I wrong?”

            _How can this guy be both so dense and insightful at the same time?_ Satsuki wonders. _Is this really the same guy who couldn’t even bring himself to stand under running water just a moment ago?_ Out loud, Satsuki mumbles, “How the hell should I know? You’re speaking in riddles.”

            Cecil’s expression softens, and he sits up straight, resting his weight on Satsuki’s hips. “Then I’ll give you one more riddle – the lower the sun, the longer the shadow, and some things are darker than the shadows they cast.” Satsuki’s eyebrow twitches, and he shifts his hips to better accommodate Cecil’s weight. In turn, Cecil traces a slow circle through the water droplets clinging to Satsuki’s chest. “Think about a sundial. Both the sun and the shadow are needed for the sundial to be useful. Likewise, your sun and your shadow are needed to give strength to your music. Do you understand?” Cecil’s eyes suddenly take on a darker hue, and Satsuki’s breath catches in his throat. “I need your shadow, Natsuki. Not just for the Muses, but for me. Selfishly, I want to hear the shadow in your songs, as well as the sun. The shadow doesn’t deserve to be in pain at the expense of the sun.”

            Satsuki’s gut twists with desire – this is the first time anyone has told him that he is needed, that he is wanted and important. He had always believed that he was essential for Natsuki’s survival, but Natsuki himself has no idea he exists. Anyone else Satsuki encounters often either runs away or suffers bodily harm. Somehow this one paradoxical individual, terrified of water but fearlessly straddling his hips, has seen him for what he is (more or less) and has accepted him.

            “If you get close to me, I might hurt you again.” Satsuki stares back into Cecil’s eyes and swallows. He can feel his groin tightening under Cecil’s weight and bites back a growl. Restraint has never been a part of either Natsuki’s or Satsuki’s personality, and it’s taking everything he’s got not to act on the growing lust pooling in his belly.

            “It’s okay, Natsuki. I trust you.”

            “You might regret that.”

            Cecil leans over, practically laying completely on top of Satsuki to reach his ear. “I might not.”

            It’s too much. Satsuki twists his head and clamps down on Cecil’s neck with his teeth. Cecil yelps in surprise, but it’s nothing like the shrieks of terror Satsuki heard earlier. He circles his arms around Cecil’s waist, grinding their cocks together as he presses Cecil down and nips at his shoulder and collarbone, licking at his tattoo. He feels Cecil tug a little at his hair, and he moans into Cecil’s neck. Cecil whimpers and wiggles his ass a little lower on Satsuki’s hips, pressing Satsuki’s erection firmly between his cheeks.

            “Cecil!” Satsuki bucks involuntarily, pinning Cecil’s cock between their torsos, and Cecil yelps in pleasurable surprise once more. If the sounds one makes while drowning in the throes of passion could be considered singing, Satsuki could listen to Cecil sing like this all day. He reaches for Cecil’s hips and presses down, grinding his pelvis into Cecil’s ass and thrusting, trying to increase the friction on his cock nestled between Cecil’s ass cheeks.

            “Ah, Natsuki! More…more…”

            “Satsuki.” Satsuki grunts, not slowing down. “The shadow’s name is Satsuki. If you want the shadow so badly, you’re going to have to use the right name.”

            Cecil looks just the slightest bit confused but nods all the same. “Ok then…Satsuki,” he pants. “I want you.”

            Cecil’s pure-hearted, no-questions-asked acceptance of his name – his very identity – drives Satsuki mad with need. This crazy kid actually wants him! _Him!_ With a half-groan, half-yell, he grabs Cecil’s ass and hauls his body up along his own, dragging Cecil’s cock along his torso, making him squeal. Roughly, he shoves two fingers into Cecil’s open mouth, nearly gagging him.

            “Suck.”

            To Satsuki’s sheer delight, Cecil sucks. He sucks _hard_. His cock throbs with every swirl of Cecil’s tongue around his fingers, and he can feel the precome dribbling shamelessly from Cecil’s cock onto his stomach. Cecil is a dream to watch – his eyes are half-closed, his cheeks caving and bulging as he works his tongue and jaw around Satsuki’s fingers. A little drool leaks out of the corner of his mouth as he moans, rocking on Satsuki’s torso with every thrust of his head on Satsuki’s hand.

            “Alright, enough.” Satsuki pulls his fingers out of Cecil’s mouth – was that a look of loss crossing Cecil’s face? – and reaches around for Cecil’s asshole. “This is gonna hurt.” He presses one finger firmly on Cecil’s hole, rubbing small insistent circles over it, and Cecil shudders, whimpering. He increases the pressure, practically bullying Cecil’s ass into submission. Cecil’s hands are pressed into his chest for balance, right over his nipples, sending little shivery tingles through him every time Cecil’s hands shift, overriding the uncomfortable hardness of the slick tile floor.

            “Na…Satsuki, I – ah, right there! It doesn’t hurt, it’s ok.”

            “Idiot,” Satsuki grunts. “I haven’t even gotten it in yet.” And though Cecil’s not nearly relaxed enough, Satsuki forces his finger into Cecil, shivering as he feels him clench around his finger. Cecil throws his head back and screams, and Satsuki’s thrown for a loop – it’s not a scream of pain or fear, but of pleasure – pure, unadulterated bliss.

            “Nice to know you’re a screamer under any circumstance, Cecil,” Satsuki grunts sarcastically, to which Cecil can’t seem to muster the wherewithal to respond. He’s too wrecked, too turned on, and if Satsuki’s honest with himself, he’s not far behind. He had planned on taking Cecil apart piece by piece and claiming that ass for himself, but his need for release is building too quickly – all because Cecil has given him the most sensual preshow on the planet, and the best part is that it hadn’t been contrived or forced. Cecil is a natural showman, even if he seems not to be aware of this himself.

            He pulls his finger out of Cecil, eliciting a whimpery moan. “Don’t worry, I’ll put it back,” Satsuki reassures him. He locks eyes with Cecil as he summons as much saliva as he can manage and drools over his own fingers. Cecil, in turn, rocks needy little thrusts into Satsuki’s groin, never looking away, making Satsuki all but lose the tenuous grasp on his composure right then and there. Swiftly, he reclaims Cecil’s asshole, this time with two fingers.

            “Satsuki…yes… _yes!_ ” Cecil grinds down on Satsuki’s hand, and Satsuki flexes his fingers to stretch him open, to reach deeper into Cecil’s warmth. _Sorry Cecil, but you’ll definitely be feeling this later_ , he can’t help thinking as he matches the timing of Cecil’s movements with his hand. The lack of adequate lubricant is making it hard for Satsuki to judge just how much he should push, so he’s content letting Cecil set the pace. That said, his cock could really use some attention right now.

            “Cecil…ugh…slow down, need to – hgn, new position…” Satsuki grunts out, and Cecil obeys. Satsuki withdraws his fingers and pushes up on Cecil’s hips, guiding to lift himself up enough that Satsuki’s fully-hard manhood snaps forward, smacking his torso. Cecil lowers himself back down onto Satsuki’s hips while Satsuki drools on his fingers once more. “If I had lube, there’d be something different going up your ass right about now,” he hints, and is rewarded with a deliciously needy moan. “For now, you’ll have to be satisfied with this. Gonna need your help though.” Reaching between them, he guides one of Cecil’s hands to where their leaking, throbbing cocks are twitching together.

            “Stroke them both,” he instructs, pressing his two fingers back into Cecil’s ass.

            “I – I’ll try,” Cecil gasps. “You’re not making this easy.”

            “Says the guy who’s basically been doing all the work himself,” Satsuki retorts.

            “Fair point,” Cecil pants with a wry smile, then immediately gasps when Satsuki forcefully prods at his prostate.

            “Stroke,” Satsuki commands.

            “Watch me,” Cecil shoots back.

            _Cocky bastard_ , Satsuki thinks to himself, but keeps his eyes on Cecil as he continues teasing his ass. Cecil’s sitting more upright now, making the angle awkward for Satsuki despite his long arms, but the view is totally worth it. Cecil licks sloppy wet stripes along his palm, wrapping his tongue around each finger, his eyes never breaking contact with Satsuki. If it were possible for Satsuki’s cock to get any harder, this elaborate display would have done it. As it is, he’s so hard it hurts.

            “Dammit Cecil, touch me already!” Satsuki moans, punctuated by a particularly forceful thrust up Cecil’s ass. Cecil yelps in pleasure, breaking eye contact as he shudders, but finally wraps his wet hand around both their cocks and slides his grip from tip to base. Satsuki’s fingers freeze mid-thrust as a deep, lusty groan rumbles up, seemingly from the innermost depths of his soul. He barely registers Cecil’s own shudder of pleasure, too lost in his own senses.

            Cecil pumps them both in earnest, little whimpery mewls escaping with every thrust. Satsuki’s pretty sure Cecil’s teetering on the edge of orgasm – God knows, with all the teasing Cecil’s done to him, he’s about to explode himself.

            “Fuck, _yeah!_ Keep going…just like that…ng – so close…”

            “A little more…Satsuki. Hold on – ah…just a bit more…”

            “How long are you gonna make me hold out, you bastard!” Satsuki roars, slamming his fingers in hard against Cecil’s sweet spot. “Just come already!”

            And, ever obedient, Cecil comes. With a scream that could shatter glass and set dogs howling, he comes, spattering Satsuki’s chest and chin. This – this is the show-stopping finale Satsuki has been waiting for. He lets himself go, adding to the mess on his chest and to the echoes in the shower room as his guttural moan joins Cecil’s cry.

            When Cecil finally comes back down to earth, he flops down onto Satsuki’s chest, exhausted and trembling from exertion. Satsuki’s breathing hard, arms and legs splayed out as though someone had dropped him on the floor like a discarded doll. His head is mush – a new sensation for Satsuki, who has always been attentive to his surroundings for the sake of Natsuki's protection. Other sensations are sinking in too – his shoulder blades and hips are aching from prolonged pressure against the tile floor, and his hand is tingling from having been at an awkward angle, not to mention having been pummelled.

            “Hey…” Satsuki mumbles.

            “Nnn…” Cecil sighs a response, and Satsuki can’t help noticing his voice is a little raspy.

            “We’re never going to talk about this. This never happened. Got it?”

            Cecil lifts his head a little. “Hm? Why?”

            “‘Cuz I said so, that’s why.”

            Cecil seems to consider this for a moment. “If you say so, I guess.” He pauses. “Are you Natsuki now? Do you feel better?”

            “I will be, in a few minutes.” Satsuki bites back a grunt when Cecil shifts, sending new tendrils of pain shooting along Satsuki’s hips and back. “Do you mind? You’re kinda heavy…”

            “Whoa, yeah, sorry about that.” Cecil carefully stands to his feet and steps to one side, extending a hand to Satsuki.

            “Looks like you’re going to need another attempt at showering,” Satsuki snickers as he grasps Cecil’s hand and stands. He looks down at himself – he’s going to need a rinse as well.

            “Somehow…” Cecil says slowly, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “Somehow I don’t think I’ll mind so much this time. But don’t push me under again. I really don’t think I could handle that. I might actually dislike you if you ever do that again.”

            “I wouldn’t blame you,” Satsuki nods. “The shadow side of me is pretty unlikeable” – Cecil starts to protest – “but necessary.” Cecil clamps his mouth shut. Satsuki’s grateful – he’s not sure how much longer he can keep up this charade of “Natsuki having a bad day”. He moves under his still-running shower and runs his hands over his chest and belly, rinsing away the come – their come. Cecil had said he liked him, that he needed what Satsuki had to offer to the world, and he had met every demand Satsuki threw at his body. For once, Satsuki actually feels like retreating into Natsuki’s mind all on his own, no glasses caging him in this time. He needs time to think, to process things, to sort out this enigma that is Aijima Cecil.

            _…Thank you, Cecil-san…_

            _Huh? Natsuki?_ Satsuki blinks. Natsuki should be sleeping, unable to do more than pass on vague impressions in response to Satsuki’s actions. This is just getting weirder and weirder. Quickly he shuts off the shower, grabs his towel, and strides towards the exit, as much as his aching hips will let him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look back to see if Cecil is still struggling with getting under the running water. Around the corner, he rapidly towels himself dry and shoves Natsuki’s glasses on his face. As he feels himself slipping back into Natsuki’s mind, Cecil’s words echo in his mind once more, and he realizes they’re the same words Cecil spoke on the very first day Cecil came into Natsuki’s life. He had known all along that Satsuki was there, inside Natsuki, and understood him in a way no one else ever could. Satsuki was not the darkness, but the force that protected Natsuki from darkness. The words he spoke to Natsuki that day were equally meant for him as well.

            _…your heart is warm and kind…_

_…warmth heals the hearts of those around you…_

_…someday, the darkness you keep locked away…_

_...will disappear…_

            A small tear slips down Natsuki’s cheek, and he wipes it away, looking at his damp fingertips in puzzlement. Shrugging, he readjusts his glasses and leaves the shower room, letting the door swing gently closed behind him.

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, first new chapter of the new series. How did I do? What do you think of my take on Satsuki? Also, it occurs to me that "Shower Lemons" could have been the title for this series... o_0
> 
> Look forward to the next chapter September 16.


	2. Reiji X Syo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiji weighs in on the plump side [author snickers]. Syo is a little on the short side [more author snickering]. What starts as typical good-natured ribbing turns into a thorough examination of each other’s assets [author gets taken out and shot for using too many puns and for incessant snickering].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads-up: This chapter has slight overtones of body image issues. If this is a trigger for you, feel free to skip this one and look for the next chapter on October 1.
> 
> Also, I haven't been able to confirm how Syo addresses Reiji, so if anyone can inform me, I will gladly make the necessary changes. =)

            “That’s it, no more karaage for you, Kotobuki-san!”

            “Aww, Toki!” Reiji whines as Tokiya whisks away his bento, making grabby hands in the direction of Tokiya’s retreating figure. He watches Tokiya make his way to the far side of the table and sit on the opposite side of him. His bento is completely beyond his reach. “Otoyan, make Toki give me back my bento.”

            “Sorry, Rei-chan, but I’m with Tokiya on this one. Even I could tell you were having a hard time keeping up with the new steps for our unit song.” Otoya smiles and pats him on the shoulder as Reiji rests his elbows on the table, holding his head in his hands.

            He, Tokiya, and Otoya are hanging around the dorm’s cafeteria. It isn’t quite lunch time yet, but Reiji had scored some karaage from his mom’s bento shop while running errands earlier and had decided to eat it while it was still hot. Fresh karaage is best karaage, after all - except that Tokiya had descended upon his lunch with a vehemence his innocent karaage did not deserve before he had managed to get the third bite in his mouth. He stares at his bento, far beyond his reach, and his stomach growls.

            “Cheer up, Rei-chan,” Otoya encourages. “Tokiya’s recommendations for salad combinations are actually not bad, especially with sliced avocado – that helps make it more filling.” He bends down close to Reiji’s ear, and Reiji feels Otoya’s breath tickle his neck as he whispers, “The chips I have hidden in the back of my closet help make salads more filling too, if you know what I mean.”

            “Otoyan! You’re the best!” Reiji beams and flings his arms around Otoya’s waist, making Otoya laugh and squirm while Tokiya raises an eyebrow. But…Reiji can’t help feeling a stab of jealousy as he notices how firm and muscular Otoya’s torso is beneath his shirt. He releases Otoya and tries to cover his uneasiness by laughing it off. “Ah, maybe it’s for the best after all. Besides, Toki looking after me makes me feel loved.”

            “Who says this is love?!” Tokiya retorts from the other end of the table, doing his absolute best to keep a straight face, which Reiji finds endearing. “I just want to have the best chance of success with our cross-unit projects, and a senpai who can’t even keep up with a standard dance number will only drag us down.”

            “See? That’s love right there, Otoyan!” Reiji teases, and is rewarded with a glimpse of the tips of Tokiya’s ears turning pink before he suddenly stands and picks up Reiji’s bento.

            “A-anyway, no matter what you say, you’re not getting this back,” Tokiya states, regaining his composure.

            “Then I’ll put it away for later!” Reiji begs. “It’s not good to waste food, and karaage that good doesn’t deserve to go in the garbage.”

            “No.”

            “So cold!”

            “Whoa, Tokiya, where’d you get the karaage?” Syo wanders into the cafeteria, beelining it toward the trio. Reiji can practically see the scent trail Syo’s following.

            “It’s mine,” Reiji says, hoping Tokiya will relent in the presence of this new arrival. However, Reiji is learning that Tokiya is unexpectedly stubborn when he’s made his mind up about something.

            “Was,” Tokiya corrected. “It _was_ yours, Kotobuki-san. Now it’s Kurusu’s.” Reiji’s eyes widen in shock as he watches Tokiya grab Syo’s hand, flip it palm-side up, and place the bento on top. Syo’s eyes are equally wide, confusion passing over his face. He lifts the lid, sniffing, and Reiji’s mouth waters. “Unlike a certain _someone_ , Kurusu regularly spends about an hour and a half in the gym three to four days a week,” Tokiya fixes a pointed stare in Reiji’s direction. “If anyone here deserves to indulge, it’s him.”

            “Aww Tokiya, what about me?” Otoya whines, but Tokiya ignores him.

            “You didn’t put a bug or something in this, did you?” Syo eyes the bento warily, and Reiji can’t blame him. Tokiya’s not one for pulling pranks, but Reiji is more observant than most people give him credit for. He’s noticed Tokiya has to work a little bit harder than everyone else at building the bonds that so easily knit the rest of the group together, so a dumb joke or a misunderstanding at the wrong time could ruin the progress he’s made so far. More than anything – even karaage – Reiji wants to see Tokiya succeed at building those bonds. _The things I do for my kouhai_ , he thinks with a sigh. _Farewell, karaage._

            “Don’t worry, Syotan,” Reiji smiles, making his expression as dramatically wistful as possible. “Toki just loves me so much that he’s concerned about making sure I eat right.”

            Syo takes one look at Tokiya shooting death glares at Reiji and busts out laughing. “Well then, senpai,” he says, dragging out the word _senpai_ exaggeratedly, “I’ll do you a favour and take care of this for you right away so you’re not tempted.”

            “Really?” Reiji can’t believe his luck – Syo is actually going to keep his bento safe for him! But then, too late, he catches on to the smirk playing at the corner of Syo’s mouth and the mischievous twinkle in his eye. With a sinking feeling, he realizes he’s been suckered by Syo’s charm. Time grinds to a crawl as Syo slowly removes the lid and lifts Reiji’s disposable wooden chopsticks from where they rest inside the container.

            “Syotan…you wouldn’t dare…”

            “Wouldn’t I?” Syo grins back. Reiji swallows as Syo locks eyes with him, lifting a bite-sized chunk of karaage with Reiji’s chopsticks. He licks at the batter coating the chicken, testing to see how hot it is, before sliding the chunk into his mouth. He chews slowly and deliberately, making appreciative noises before swallowing. Then he sucks on the ends of the chopsticks exaggeratedly, seemingly lost in the ecstasy of deliciousness Reiji knows all too well, though his gaze never wavers from Reiji’s face. Reiji can practically taste the karaage vicariously through Syo’s dramatic performance, which not only attests to how good the karaage is, but also how far Syo’s come with his acting skills. And then, for a split second, Reiji finds himself lost in Syo’s clear blue eyes, karaage forgotten. The intensity, the vivaciousness, the enthusiasm for living that permeates Syo’s being – it’s all there, washing over Reiji and threatening to pull him in. Reiji swallows again, but not because of the karaage.

            And then Otoya chimes in, breaking the spell.

            “Hey, Tokiya, isn’t that what they call an indirect kiss?”

            The chopsticks clatter to the floor. Syo’s gaze flicks away from Reiji, and his cheeks colour in embarrassment as he slaps the lid back down on the bento box. Tokiya’s usual stoic expression slips, and he gapes at Otoya like a fish out of water. Reiji can feel the heat building in his face, and his mind goes blank. For once, he’s speechless.

            “What?” Otoya asks innocently. “I saw chopstick-sharing in one of my manga a while ago and was just surprised to see someone do it in real life.”

            “Just…” Tokiya pinches the bridge of his nose, then grabs Otoya by his wrist. “We need to have a talk about your tact.” He drags a protesting Otoya out of the cafeteria, leaving Syo awkwardly clutching the bento while Reiji shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

            “Hey, I - ”

            “Don’t worry about it, Syotan.” Reiji’s the first to recover. “You’re not the first person to share my chopsticks – ah, not that I go around sharing chopsticks!” Reiji backtracks, seeing Syo blush harder. “I only mean that I’ve been in the idol business for a long time and have had my share of embarrassing things happen to me. This is nothing. Actually,” Reiji pauses. “I was impressed with the show you put on there. Very alluring. Keep up the good work.” With a wink, he gets up out of his seat and rests a hand on his shoulder, realizing for the first time just how close in height they are. “I’m gonna go check on Otoyan, make sure Toki’s not lecturing him too badly.”

            “…Ok. Um…we’re good, right?” Syo manages a shaky smile, and Reiji smiles back.

            “We’re good.”

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            Reiji scoops his damp hair into a loose ponytail before stepping into the extravagant soaker bath in the dorm’s communal shower room. The bath is much too large for a dorm that holds so few people, but Reiji’s not complaining. The room holding the bath is designed to feel like a day spa or an onsen, with decorative plastic rocks surrounding the bath instead of walls and warm lighting bringing out the vibrant blues and greens of the iridescent tiles on the walls and floor. There’s even a cluster of fake palm trees in one corner. It’s over the top, cheesy, and familiarly absurd – Reiji expects nothing less from Shining Saotome. He sighs, leans back against one of the rocks, and lets the quiet grind of the water circulation system lull him into a state of relaxation.

            As he relaxes, he closes his eyes and lets his mind wander over the events of the day, working backwards. Thanks to Tokiya’s chiding, he had actually gone to the gym and worked on his cardio, alternating between running on the treadmill and sidestep repetitions. He also worked in some crunches and squats for good measure. Before that, he had met up with Ai, Camus, and Ranmaru to prepare their weekly reports on STARISH for Shining Agency. Before that, he had met with his manager at the agency to discuss his upcoming schedule, and before that he had mediated Tokiya’s scolding and reassured Otoya that everything was fine after what happened in the cafeteria.

_Syo sucking on his chopsticks._

_Syo staring into his eyes._

_Syo…_

            Reiji’s eyes flick open, and he stares down at himself in disbelief at his cock twitching and growing under the water. Quickly looking around, he’s relieved that there are no witnesses to his embarrassing predicament. How desperate is he for company that he can get turned on just by remembering a guy several years his junior sucking on chopsticks? _Jeez…_ Reiji thinks, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle. _I need to get out more_.

            He strokes himself absent-mindedly, not really aiming to jerk off but relishing the pleasant sensations of his own touch. He knows what he likes and how much he can handle before his instincts take over and the need to rub one out overwhelms him. Right now, he’s relaxed, content, and not thinking about anything in particular but the feel of his own fingers…though the more he strokes himself, the more often images of Syo keep slipping out of his subconscious into the forefront of his mind. He stills suddenly. _What the hell am I doing? I am NOT going to jerk off while imagining one of my kouhai – absolutely not! Going with the flow is one thing, but this… I can’t – I won’t!_

            He slowly releases his hold on his cock and deliberately recalls all the painstaking details of his upcoming schedule, forcing himself to remember every word of the conversation he had with his manager who, while competent enough, also looks a little like a baboon with Harry Potter glasses. The trick works, and it’s not long before Reiji’s calmed down enough that he can appreciate the warmth of the water and the comfort of the atmosphere once again. He raises his arms above his head, stretching luxuriously, triggering an unexpected yawn that makes his jaw crack.

            “Whoa, I bet I could’ve fit my fist in there, Reiji-senpai!”

            Reiji freezes mid-stretch and catches Syo stepping into the bath over a small rock. At a glance, he takes in Syo’s tight abs, firm chest, and supple thighs. His cock twitches rebelliously. _Down boy…_

            “I’m a hard-working man, I’ll have you know! So what if I yawn? I still have enough energy to teach you a thing or two about being an idol!” He rubs his jaw and grins, focusing all his effort in staying light-hearted and casual. As far as he can tell, Syo’s not giving his behaviour a second thought, nor is he acting weird about what happened in the cafeteria. He closes his eyes and rolls his head from side to side, working out the kinks.

            “Sure thing, old man,” Syo retorts with a snort, and Reiji hears Syo slosh through the water to get closer to him. “By the way, I did actually finish your bento – with my own chopsticks of course.” Reiji opens his eyes to Syo grinning down at him. “Pretty tasty. Where’d you get it?”

            “Kotobuki Bento, of course! No, really!” Reiji exclaims as Syo rolls his eyes. “The karaage is my mom’s secret recipe and one of the most popular items in her shop.”

            “You’re actually serious? Your mom owns a bento shop?”

            “I’m always serious, Syotan.” Syo rolls his eyes again, and Reiji laughs. “Ok then, why would I joke about karaage that good?”

            “Hmm, true enough,” Syo nods, placing a thoughtful finger on his chin, and Reiji knows he’s won him over. If he ever ends up bringing karaage back to the dorm and Tokiya tries to confiscate it again, Reiji’s pretty sure he can rely on Syo to back him up. Ah but – the memory of feeling Otoya’s firm abs and the sight of Syo’s toned body in front of him bring Reiji back to reality, and his smile falters a little.

            “That being said, I think I should give more consideration to Toki’s salads. I mean, no agency wants a fat idol weighing down its reputation, am I right?” He chuckles but stops when Syo frowns. It’s only a lighthearted jest regarding Tokiya’s scolding, with a rather good pun to boot…but then the reality of his own words hits him full force and his smile falls from his face. He drops his head, brow furrowing. _No one wants a fat idol…why did I say that? Of course, no one wants a fat idol…_

            “Hey.” Reiji feels a finger under his chin, lifting his head. Syo’s staring at him with an intensity that makes his gaze in the cafeteria pale in comparison. “I don’t know how serious you meant that, and I don’t care that you’re my senpai, but if you’re saying what I think you’re saying…”

            A sharp pain erupts on the side of Reiji’s face, and it takes him a moment to realize Syo has just slapped him. He holds a hand to his face, bewildered, and he can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. This was _not_ the direction he intended for this conversation. “Syotan…why…?”

            “Stand up.”

            Reiji hesitates.

            “Come on, stand up.”

            Slowly, he drops his hand from his face and stands.

            “As I thought,” Syo states. “It’s slight, but you really are taller than me. Damn.”

_Huh?_

            “Look…I’m not great at talking when it comes to this kind of stuff, so I’m just gonna say what I think.” Syo takes a deep breath, and his words tumble out. “If what you said was a joke, it’s the wrong kind of joke to make while we work in this industry. People like me might misunderstand. If you were serious, then you gotta talk to someone and get your shit together before you get stuck thinking that way about yourself all the time.”

            “You…you’re right, of course.” Reiji’s at a loss – he never even realized he was capable of thinking this way about himself. Was it a joke or was he serious? He’s so shaken, he doesn’t even know what had meant or what to say next.

            “You’re actually a really good dancer, you know?” Syo’s eying him up and down now, and suddenly Reiji feels like livestock at an auction. Will Syo want to examine his teeth next? “And I’ve always admired how you seem comfortable in your own skin. You’re just barely taller than me but being short has never seemed to bother you.”

            Reiji’s eyebrow twitches, but he forces a smile. “Syotan, you don’t need to make up compliments. I’m fine – nothing to be concerned over. It was just a joke in bad taste.”

            Syo frowns again. “I’m not the type to make stuff up. That won’t do anyone any good. And unlike you, most people believe me when I say I’m being serious. So believe me when I say that _seriously_ , you have nothing to worry about. Sure, you’ll never turn backflips on stage like me and Otoya, but that’s not really your style anyway, so don’t worry so much.” Suddenly Syo pinches his waist, and Reiji yelps. “Nope, nothing to worry about at all.”

            “Syotan!” Reiji gasps, and Syo laughs. “That tickled!”

            “All the better!” Syo grins. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive, _senpai_.” He reaches for Reiji’s waist again, but this time Reiji catches his wrist and targets Syo’s ribs, playing them like a piano.

            “Reiji-senpai!” Syo shrieks.

            “Gotcha!” Reiji grins, even as he feels Syo wriggle free from his grasp. Syo ducks under his arm and jabs at his ribs from behind, causing Reiji to spin around and almost slip. Suddenly both of them have their hands all over each other, trying to find each other’s triggers and laughing like maniacs. Water churns around them, lapping over the rocks bordering the bath as they tussle, and Reiji feels like he’s five again. Without thinking, he makes a grab for Syo’s nipple and tweaks it. Syo squeaks and slaps his hand over his chest, cheeks flaming.

            “Oho!” Reiji crows, sensing he’s got the upper hand. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive, _kouhai-chan_.” He winks and aims for Syo’s waist but is surprised when Syo catches his hand. He looks up in time to see Syo’s other hand closing in on his face.

 _Oh God, what did I do? I went too far – I shouldn’t have pinched his nipple. I’m sorry Syotan!_ He squeezes his eyes shut, anticipating pain…and cracks one eye open when Syo’s hand gently caresses his jaw, cradling his face.

            “I’m sorry I slapped you, Reiji,” Syo says, and Reiji’s heart skips a beat at the dropped honorific. Those clear blue eyes, full of passion and life, are now tinged with remorse and…something else. Reiji swallows thickly.

            “It…it’s ok. I’m sorry I made you worry.” Impulsively, he leans a little into Syo’s touch.

            “I-idiot!” Syo stutters and drops his hand. “Anyone would be worried if they heard someone they liked say that kind of stuff about themselves…”

 _“Liked”…he said “liked”…_ Reiji’s brain short-circuits – but then Syo continues a little more calmly. “I mean, nobody’s perfect, but I think you’re someone worth admiring, even if you are a goofball. It’s just weird to see you doubt yourself, and I overreacted, so…sorry.”

 _Oh…that kind of “like”_ , Reiji realizes. “It’s alright, Syotan, really,” he says out loud, swallowing the lump in his throat.

            “Also,” Syo continues. “Since you’re…you know…about the same height as me, I can’t help comparing myself to you sometimes and, um…I kinda like the way you look.” He touches Reiji’s jaw again, and the skin under his fingers tingles under his touch.

            “Heh…I had no idea you were looking at me.” Reiji goes quiet for a moment as Syo continues gently rubbing his jaw, then asks, “What do you look at?”

            “Your ass.”

            Reiji jerks back, startled at Syo’s straightforward answer, and Syo drops his hand.

            “Well, you asked.” Syo shrugs, colouring slightly. “It was one of the first things I noticed about you when QUARTET NIGHT performed _Poison KISS_ for us in the dorm. I’m kind of envious actually. My frame is different than yours, so my ass is nothing to write home about, but yours…it’s there, and I like it. It…looks good on you, I guess?” He drops his gaze and fidgets a little with his fingers, clearly embarrassed at confessing something he probably intended to take with him to his grave.

            “You wanna touch it?” Reiji throws the question out like a joke, but his heart is pounding. The memory of Syo sucking on his chopsticks drifts to the forefront of his mind once more. _Oh God, I want him to touch me_ …

            The sound of the water gently lapping at the sides of the bath resounds in Reiji’s ears like he’s standing under a waterfall, and the seconds tick by with agonizing slowness. Reiji sees a million emotions flicker over Syo’s face – he’s probably trying to decide how seriously he should take Reiji’s proposition. Reiji’s never been more serious about something like this in his life. He wants – no, he _needs_ Syo’s hands on his ass.

            “…Can I?” Syo’s eyes finally lock onto his, resolute and lusty.

            Reiji moves closer, his nose only a hair’s breadth away from Syo’s. There’s no backing down now. “You can. In fact, I think you should.”

            To his credit, Syo’s gaze never wavers as he lifts his hands and rests them low on Reiji’s hips. Goosebumps erupt all over his ass and thighs at the sudden contact, making him shiver. He closes his eyes with a soft hiss.

            “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this,” Syo murmurs in his ear as his hands slide lower, cupping his ass cheeks in a firm grip and squeezing. “Never thought I’d actually get to, though.”

            “Is it everything you’ve dreamed of?” Reiji teases, but his breath catches in his throat when Syo squeezes again, and the pressure tips him a little off-balance. “Can I…?” he raises his arms a little.

            “Mmm.” Syo nods, and Reiji circles his arms loosely around Syo’s neck for balance, resting his weight on Syo’s shoulders. Syo finds a rhythm, squeezing and rubbing, gently grinding the heels of his palms into the fleshiest parts of Reiji’s ass and then smoothing the pressure with his fingers. Before too long, Reiji realizes he’s molded himself onto Syo’s body, allowing himself to be pulled closer and closer as Syo kneads his ass. His cock twitches against Syo’s pelvis, and both of them jump.

            “Ah…natural reaction?” Reiji stammers, stepping back.

            “No, I…uh…” Syo’s blushing furiously, and Reiji’s hit with a rush of lust – Syo’s cock is also twitching and growing. “Sorry. I just – I can’t stop thinking about, uh – I mean, I wanna do more than just touch…”

            “Is that all?” Reiji’s relieved – Syo’s more concerned about getting too greedy than about Reiji’s own reaction. Actually…if Reiji’s really being honest with himself, he’s the greedy one. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.” He fights the urge to laugh at Syo’s bewildered expression as he hoists himself out of the bath. He walks over to where he had hung his towel and grabs his conditioner from his bag of toiletries on the floor. Stepping back in the bath, he tosses the bottle to Syo, who fumbles but manages to catch it.

            “Do what you like – or would you like me to get you started?”

            Syo stares down at the bottle, then back up at Reiji. “You…why are you letting me go this far? You don’t even know what I want to do.”

            Reiji steps closer. “Has it occurred to you that I might actually be enjoying myself right now?” Syo gapes at him – clearly, he’s been thinking Reiji had been doing him a favour by graciously allowing him to grope his ass. “To be honest, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head all day. When I said your performance was alluring, I meant it. Besides, it’s not like I would let just anybody grab my ass, you know.” He reaches up and cups Syo’s chin, realizing his hand is shaking a little and hopes Syo doesn’t notice. “So, go on – do what you like.” With the sound of his pounding heart roaring in his ears, he leans in and gently kisses Syo’s lips.

            To his utter relief, Syo responds, kissing him back. He feels one of Syo’s hands trail down his side, over his hip, and cup his ass. Reiji snickers into the kiss and breaks it off. “You really are serious about my ass.”

            “You’re just figuring this out?” Syo retorts. “See that big rock over there?” Reiji nods. “Go hang onto that for support. You’re gonna need it.”

 _Interesting…_ Reiji smiles as he turns to follow Syo’s instructions, noticing that the tightening in his groin is turning his saunter into more of a waddle. Bending over, he embraces the rock and smiles coquettishly over his shoulder, ready to tease Syo a little more, but his next comment dies in his throat as he takes in Syo’s expression. The time for verbal teasing is over.

            Syo squirts a generous amount of conditioner into his palm, then places the bottle at the edge of the bath near Reiji’s elbow. Reiji closes his eyes and focuses on the slick, sloppy sound of Syo rubbing his hands together. His cock is fully hard now, with precome beading at the tip as he anticipates Syo’s touch. He still jolts in surprise when Syo cups his ass with warm, slippery hands, thumbs extended toward his hole. Reiji belatedly slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle the embarrassing moan slipping out, clinging one-handedly to the rock as his knees buckle slightly. Syo slides his hands so his thumbs ease into his crack, and Reiji moans again when Syo spreads him.

            “Jeez, Reiji…” Syo breathes. He uses one hand to keep Reiji’s cheeks spread and presses one slick finger against his hole, rubbing small insistent circles over the entrance.

            “Syotan…your hands…” Reiji pants, growing more sensitive with every swipe of Syo’s finger.

            “Not slippery enough? Does it hurt?” Syo stills, concerned.

            “N-no,” Reiji stutters, clinging even tighter to the rock. “‘s good. So good. ‘Member, I said you can do what you want.”

            Syo’s breath hitches, making Reiji’s heart lurch. “I haven’t forgotten. Just…I don’t wanna hurt you.”

            “You won’t.” Reiji manages a chuckle, then gasps when Syo begins rubbing him again, more earnestly this time. Without thinking, he bucks against Syo’s hand, and Syo steadies him with a firm grasp on his hip, all the while massaging Reiji’s hole into compliance. Suddenly Syo’s finger slips in, and this time Reiji doesn’t bother holding back the soft needy whine that slips out. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against the rock’s smooth plastic surface, focusing on the fingers digging into his hip and the persistent wiggling sensation in his ass. As much as he’s enjoying Syo’s amateur attempts at turning him on, he can’t help feeling a little impatient all the same. His cock is twitching and aching with need, and his hole is pleasantly stretching around Syo’s finger. He lets his feet slide along the bottom of the bath a little, spreading his legs so Syo can reach better…and shudders when Syo’s finger finally bangs into his sweet spot.

             Without missing a beat, Syo slips in a second finger, spreading and curling his fingers carefully to stretch Reiji wide open. Reiji’s breath is hot on his own arm as he pants though Syo’s movements, clinging to the rock for dear life while Syo loosens him up. “Syotan…” he moans. “You’re taking too long.”

            “Shut up,” Syo grunts. “For being such a goof, you’re quite the literal tightass, you know?”

            Reiji gasps as Syo wiggles in a third finger, his mind reeling from the overload of sensations coursing up his spine and through his groin. As he breathes through the slight burn from the stretch, he feels Syo start up a deliberate push-pull rhythm in his ass, triggering shiver after shiver each time Syo hits his sweet spot. He bucks into Syo’s hand, not bothering to stifle the moans being dragged out of him, dangerously close to the upper limits of his vocal range.

            “Syotan…Syota-…ngh…Syo, fuck me already, please!” Reiji begs, grinding his forehead into the rock. He’s reached his limit, lost his mind, and he doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. All he knows is that his earlier short-lived jerk-off fantasy pales in comparison to the real thing, the real _Syo_ , grinding his hand mercilessly into his ass.

            “You got it, Reiji,” Syo grunts, and Reiji catches the needy undertone colouring his voice. Suddenly, Syo withdraws his hand and Reiji aches with emptiness. Syo releases Reiji’s hip, sliding over his ass before removing it completely.

            “Syotan…” Reiji whines.

            “Just getting ready,” Syo reassures him, popping the cap off the conditioner next to Reiji’s elbow. “Look. Look at me.”

            Reiji stays bent over, hanging on the rock for balance, but carefully turns his head in the direction of Syo’s voice. His breath catches in his throat as his gaze falls on Syo furiously working the conditioner up and down his length, slicking himself thoroughly but as rapidly as possible, as though every moment wasted on getting ready was a moment he could be buried to the hilt in Reiji’s ass instead. The sight makes Reiji’s cock twitch violently, precome drooling into the bathwater. He strains his eyes to look further up, locking his gaze with Syo’s.

            “Ah, Reiji,” Syo moans, keeping his eyes trained on Reiji’s face as he works himself. “I can’t wait to put this in you. I wanna slide into your hot ass and make you fall apart. You want that? Huh, Reiji? I wanna fill you up and fuck you stupid, and you are going to bend over and _take_ it, because you _want_ it.”

            “Syo, you’re torturing me! Put in already, please!” Syo’s dirty talking and intense gaze make Reiji’s groin clench with desire, and his asshole aches with emptiness and need. Syo moves out of his line of sight, and Reiji turns his head back down to face the water, shuddering when Syo spreads his ass once more.

            “Ready for this?”

            “Syo…” Reiji groans. “Please…I need…” He stops mid-sentence as Syo’s slick, blunt head prods at his entrance. He exhales slowly, willing himself to relax despite his every nerve tingling with anticipation. Syo’s cock slips in, and Reiji distantly hears Syo hiss above the rush of blood in his ears and the pleasant, stretching burn in his asshole. This sensation…it just feels so _right_ , so _perfect_ , and Reiji’s hit with the realization that it’s because it’s _Syo_. Physicality is Syo’s primary form of communication – even Reiji had noticed this trait early on in STARISH’s debut performance and confirmed it as he had watched the group’s dynamics off-stage. And right now, Reiji’s on the receiving-end – literally – of Syo’s feelings and intentions. More than Syo’s words, more than the tickle fight or the slap on his face, Reiji knows without a shadow of a doubt that Syo’s approval of his body is being best expressed right here, right now, through Syo’s cock up his ass and his hands on his hips.

            “Can I move?”

            “Ngn…”

            “Reiji?”

            “Move. Go slow.”

            Syo’s fingers tighten a little on his hips, pulling out slowly, and Reiji feels like his cock goes on for miles. Slowly, he presses in again, slipping centimetre by centimetre down Reiji’s hole. The barest hint of a tingle curls in his groin, and he knows Syo’s cock is nudging at his sweet spot.

            “More, Syotan. It’s ok. Move more.”

            Syo grunts through his nose, and Reiji can hear the strain in his breath as he adjusts his stance. Gradually, firmly, Syo starts to move. Reiji still feels the burn of the stretch, but the burn is gradually replaced by bursts of tingly pleasure as Syo pushes and pulls at just the right angle.

            “Fuck…Reiji…so tight. You’re so hot, God…”

            One of Reiji’s hands slips from the rock and he grabs at his own cock. Though his mind his going a little hazy with endorphins, and though he doesn’t doubt Syo’s physical stamina in general, Reiji’s pretty sure Syo’s not going to last long. His thrusts, though fantastically deep and strong, are arrhythmic, and his grip, though firm, is already faltering as his fingers clench and unclench on Reiji’s hips. Desperately, Reiji clings to each sensation, to each push and pull moving through his hole, to every jolt coursing from his abused sweet spot, because this is Syo communicating at his best, and Reiji doesn’t want to miss any of this for the world.

            “Syo…Syotan – more, more…just like tha-…ng, fuck. Syo…” The name falls repeatedly from Reiji’s lips like a mantra as he strokes himself, trying to match Syo thrust for thrust. Syo’s making incoherent noises above him, pounding him in earnest now, his hands gripping Reiji’s thighs right where they meet his pelvis.

            “Can I…inside?” Syo pants out, and Reiji loses it.

            “Yes! Oh God, yes…” He comes with a noise somewhere between a scream and a yell, jetting his seed into the swirling bathwater as Syo’s orgasm rips through his insides, shaking and twitching and filling him up to the brim. Dimly, he hears Syo’s own yell and can’t help but think there’s touch of triumph in the sound, but the thought slips away as his whole body shudders with release and the pleasurable rush of post-orgasmic haze clouds his mind, shutting down all attempts at thinking as their blended voices resonate in his ears.

            Reiji clings to the rock as his legs wobble. He’s breathing hard, like all the air in the world is not enough to sustain him. The ambient heat from the warm bath water and the room threaten to overtake him, and he uses all his remaining willpower to not pass out. Syo’s hands are suddenly cupping his ass once more, drawing Reiji back to consciousness.

            “Damn…you ok, senpai? ‘Cuz I’m gonna collapse if I don’t pull out.” Syo’s voice is a little harsher than usual, and Reiji can hear the exhaustion creeping in. His own vocal chords are feeling strained and a little raw. He swallows.

            “I’m ok, Syotan. Just go as slow as you can.”

            With a hiss and a final clench of his fingers into Reiji’s hips, Syo pulls out, and Reiji bites back a whine as his oversensitive hole registers the friction as pain instead of pleasure. Syo’s hands finally slide off his ass, and Reiji carefully collapses into the bath, still clinging to the plastic rock for support. Slowly, he releases the rock and turns, easing himself into a sitting position against the wall. Syo’s already dragged himself into a sitting position against the wall nearby and is leaning back with his eyes closed.

            “Syotan…?”

            “Shut up, old man,” Syo rasps, and Reiji smiles. He’ll wait until Syo’s recovered before asking him about the possibility of a next time.

 

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found getting into Reiji's head really challenging, but I'm still rather pleased with how this pairing turned out.
> 
> Look for the next chapter on October 1!


	3. Camus X Otoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otoya can’t help admiring how elegantly Camus performs even the most mundane tasks and is surprised at how well that elegance carries over into Camus’s personal hygiene routines.

            “Chin up! Eyes forward! Chest out!” 

            Otoya supresses a groan as Camus barks out more commands. Somehow, he and Syo have been roped into practicing the waltz with Cecil, and Camus has been designated as their instructor by Shining Saotome. Despite some incidental pointers he had received from Tokiya back during their academy days, Otoya still feels completely outclassed. He knows that waltzing is a really important dance style to have in his repertoire, but he just can’t seem to get the hang of it. Now, he’s stuck balancing a tome of annotated Shakespeare plays and sonnets on his head to improve his posture as a penalty for stepping on Cecil’s foot more than five times within fifteen steps. A bead of sweat rolls slowly down the side of his face as he tries to concentrate on Syo and Cecil practicing while maintaining the book’s precarious balance atop his head. Why did Shakespeare have to be so damn prolific anyway? 

            “Kurusu. I must say you have improved considerably since last week. As long as you keep your shoulders squared and mind the signals of your partner, you should have no trouble leading any of your partners adequately despite your height.” Camus doesn’t smile, but he’s not frowning as severely as he usually does, so Otoya can tell he’s pleased with Syo’s adaptability and natural rhythm, even though Otoya knows it’s been torture for Syo to reign in his abundant energy for something as slow and stately as a waltz. 

            “Thank you, Camus-senpai,” Syo nods, trying not to look too put out about Camus mentioning his height. “I bet all my years playing waltzes on the violin has been helping. I know my timing’s fine, it’s just getting the steps right.” 

 _Lucky_ , Otoya catches himself thinking, but there’s no jealousy – just a touch of frustration. He shifts his stance, and the book wobbles a little. 

            “As for you, Aijima,” Camus rounds on his kouhai, and Otoya’s mouth quirks a little at Camus’s begrudging tone of approval. “Your natural grace lends itself wonderfully to waltzing, but you’ve continued to struggle with your tendency to slip into your country’s dance of worship.” Cecil looks a little sheepish, and Otoya’s heart goes out to him.  _It_ _’_ _s not like he can help it_ _. The guy_ _’_ _s been doing that dance all his life_. “Nevertheless,” Camus continues, “I must say you’ve improved tremendously as well. You must not neglect to practice, but I believe it is safe to say that both you and Syo no longer require my aid in learning how to waltz.” Cecil’s face lights up with a smile of surprise and Syo pumps his fist in the air with a whoop. “I will be submitting my reports on your progress to the president this afternoon, but I expect to see outstanding performances from both of you at the Suzuki Charity Ball in two weeks’ time. Dismissed.” 

            “What about Otoya?” Syo asks, and Otoya’s chest clenches a little at the concern in his voice. Another bead of sweat snakes its way down Otoya’s face, and he resists the urge to wipe it away as three pairs of eyes focus on his Shakespeare balancing act. 

            “Never mind your colleague,” Camus states, and his gaze bores into Otoya until he feels like a piece of Swiss cheese. “Each of you learns at your own pace, and Ittoki happens to learn slower than either of you when it comes to waltzing.” 

 _Ouch_. Otoya winces a little inside and focuses his gaze on a spot on the wall, away from Camus’s judgemental eyes and his friends’ concerned expressions.  _But_ _it_ _’_ _s_ _true…_ _I guess being graceful is something you either are or aren_ _’_ _t – you can_ _’_ _t learn it_ _. Or at least, I can_ _’_ _t_. 

            A  _thunk_  reaches Otoya’s ears a split second after he registers that his head suddenly feels a whole lot lighter, and he looks down to see that Shakespeare is no longer balancing on his head but resting comfortably on the floor by his feet. 

            “Camus-senpai, I…” 

            Camus pinches the bridge of his nose at the sound of Otoya’s voice, almost exactly the way he does when Reiji says something asinine, and Otoya pales a little. 

            “Aijima. Kurusu. I said you are dismissed.” Cecil and Syo scuttle out of the room, and Otoya keeps his eyes on his feet. The door closes with a dull thud, and the silence that follows rests heavily on Otoya’s ears. Then the soft clicks of Camus’s heels break the silence as he takes slow, deliberate steps in Otoya’s direction. Otoya swallows and keeps his eyes down until the toes of Camus’s creamy-coloured dance shoes enter his line of sight, lining up with his indoor sneakers. 

            “Ittoki, look up.” 

            Otoya takes a deep, shaky breath and raises his head. Being discouraged won’t help him be more graceful, but more practice will. Still, it’s hard to plaster a smile on his face under the intense pressure of Camus’s presence. 

            “Sorry, Camus-senpai. I promise I’ll keep practicing. I’ll get it right soon.” His enthusiasm falters, however, under Camus’s impenetrable scrutiny. Suddenly Camus sinks slowly to one knee and picks up the book, then rises as gracefully as he had knelt. He examines the book for damage, places it on a nearby chair, then stands before Otoya once more. Otoya’s eyes follow his every move.  _Man, only Camus-_ _senpai_ _can make something as simple as picking up a book look like a work of art_. 

            “Ittoki. I have committed a grave error in attempting to teach you how to waltz,” Camus states. 

            “Camus-sempai?” Otoya’s tenuous grasp on the last shreds of his optimism slips, and he can feel an uncomfortable pricking at the corners of his eyes.  _This is it_ , he thinks.  _He_ _’_ _s_ _gonna_ _tell me I_ _’_ _ve_ _failed. I won_ _’_ _t be able_ _to continue as an idol. I won_ _’_ _t get to dance and sing with STARISH anymore. This…this is the end for me._  

            “All this time,” Camus continues, “I have been verbally instructing you three and then have had you practice with each other. I assumed that all of you would learn from each other and improve, not taking into account your complete lack of experience in this type of dancing.” Otoya suddenly feels a cool weight on his shoulder, and it takes a moment for him to realize that it’s Camus’s hand. “Rather than learn from your amateur colleagues, you shall learn directly from an expert.” 

            Otoya’s mouth flaps open and closed like a fish out of water - he’s completely speechless. Camus hasn’t given up on him? He’s not going to get kicked out of STARISH and fired from the agency because he can’t waltz? He hardly realizes Camus has led him to the center of the dance floor, holding onto his shoulder the entire time. 

            “What…what should I do?” he asks tentatively. 

            “I would like you to follow my lead,” instructs Camus. “Your movements are too big, too…exuberant for waltzing, and your rhythm needs work. Remember, many of your partners will be shorter, delicate, and balancing on high-heeled shoes. Rather than focusing on abstract concepts like beauty or grace, I suspect you need to physically experience the follower part of the waltz so that you will be better prepared to lead.” 

            “Oh…” Otoya’s not entirely sure he gets everything Camus is saying but nods anyway. Nodding is always a safe thing to do, based on the many experiences he’s had enduring Tokiya’s explanations.  _Follower…that means I have to be the girl, right?!_  Realization sinks in as Camus guides his arms into position, but he swallows his nervousness and hopes to high heaven he gets this right. Carefully, he rests his one hand on Camus’s shoulder, feeling like the biggest intruder into Camus’s personal space, while the other hand hangs limply, barely grazing Camus’s palm. He’s eye-level with Camus’s nose, making it next to impossible to redirect his gaze to something more benign than Camus’s critical stare. He yelps involuntarily when Camus places his hand high on Otoya’s ribcage and tightens his grip on Otoya’s hand, pulling him much too close for comfort. 

            “Ittoki, remember this feeling,” Camus murmurs, and his voice his oddly quiet – gentle, almost, but without the butler-persona tone. “This nervousness, this anxiety – many of your partners will likely experience all of these feelings the first time they dance with you, and you will need to adapt.” 

            “H-how do you know w-what I’m feeling?” Otoya manages to stutter out, ashamed that Camus can read him so easily. 

            “Never mind that,” Camus brushes off the question. “Now, we move. We’ll start without music, and you will follow my lead.” 

            Otoya gulps and waits for Camus’s cue to move. However, they stop almost as soon as they start. 

            “Ittoki, eyes up. Refrain from looking at your feet.” 

            They start again, and Otoya focuses with all his willpower on Camus’s movements as Camus counts out the step sequence in his ear. He keeps his gaze locked on the shoulder seam of Camus’s blazer, resisting the temptation to look down at his feet or, more terrifyingly, up at what he’s sure is Camus’s disapproving expression boring into his skull. He can feel the sweat gathering along his hairline under his bangs, and briefly wonders if Camus is capable of sweating – certainly he can’t recall ever seeing the man express feeling slightly overheated, never mind sweating from exertion. 

            They move in measured, stately circles for about an hour and a half, hardly saying a word to each other even when they take a break after the first fifteen minutes to get some music going. As Otoya starts adjusting to Camus’s rhythm and pacing, he finally finds himself relaxing enough to observe properly. He’s making fewer mistakes, stumbling less often, and can actually start picking up Camus’s non-verbal cues for more elaborate additions to the basic footwork. Camus is not a comforting, relaxing sort, and Otoya still trusts him about as much as he can throw him, but when it comes to perfect execution of anything, including waltzing, Camus is the epitome of dependable. 

            They finally take a break, and Otoya gratefully chugs back one of the bottles of water he brought with him, even though it’s a little unpleasant at room temperature. He wipes his brow with a gym towel and notices Camus holding his own water bottle a little oddly. His eyes widen as Jack Frost-like patterns spread delicately over the bottle’s surface from where Camus is holding it. 

            “Camus-senpai, that’s so beautiful!” Otoya blurts out, then clamps his mouth shut. Was he being too straightforward again? 

            “Would you…” Camus frowns a little, and Otoya waits for the inevitable scolding. “Would you like me to chill your water as well, Ittoki?” 

 _Huh?_  

            “Ah…oh! Yeah! That would be awesome, thanks!” Otoya hands over his second bottle, still full, and Camus frosts it thoroughly before handing it back. He sucks back a large gulp, appreciating the coolness, then suddenly chuckles. “Heh heh, I still can’t get used to that. Cecil throws his magic around randomly if there’s anyone to show off for, but you treat your ice power like it’s special, and not to be wasted. Even when you used it to introduce yourself, you used just enough for a really dramatic punch but didn’t go overboard – not like the president and his crazy stunts. Anyway, um, yeah…I like it. Your magic.”  _Ugh_ _, why can_ _’_ _t I keep my big mouth shut?_ Otoya mentally face-palms. _He_ _’_ _s_ _gonna_ _think I_ _’_ _m nuts…_  

            There’s a moment of silence as Camus seems to process Otoya’s unabashed sincerity. He gives nothing away except for the slightest twitch of an eyebrow when he responds. “I appreciate your thoughtful observation, truly.” Otoya catches that slight gentle tone from earlier edging into Camus’s voice, and pastes a beaming smile on his face to hide his puzzlement.  

            Camus suddenly shrugs off his blazer and unbuttons the collar of his dress shirt. “Now, before we lose our rhythm…” He extends a hand toward Otoya, and Otoya swears there’s the slightest quirk of a smile added to Camus’s otherwise stern expression. He falls into place, slipping easily into the following position. As Camus pulls him close, Otoya’s nose twitches – he can suddenly smell something sort of musky and vanilla-y, different but rather pleasant.  _Where is that smell coming_ _from?_  It takes several turns around the dance floor to realize the smell is coming from  _Camus_ , and it doesn’t have the artificial overtones that cologne or body wash usually contain. From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of a tiny bead of sweat inching down Camus’s neck from behind his ear, and Otoya gets the sudden irrational desire to lick him to see if he tastes as good as he smells. Distracted, he stumbles a little but manages not to step on Camus’s foot. They stop, and Camus holds him at arms’ length by his shoulders, looking him up and down. 

            “I was wondering about your endurance. Now I have my answer.” Camus releases him and heads over to pick up his personal belongings. “You still need to practice leading, but I have a work-related obligation to fulfill tomorrow, so we will continue the day after that. I would like to submit my report on your progress to the president as soon as possible. Understood?” 

            “Yes, understood,” Otoya responds, appreciating the lingering smell of Camus hanging in the air and hoping that he’s not too much of a weirdo for liking it. 

V_@_~~~~_@_V 

            Otoya stops short, towel dangling in hand, at the sight of Camus standing under a running shower, his back to the entrance of the communal shower room. Several things pile into his brain at once as he tries to process the view in front of him: first, he had always assumed that Camus was too good for using the communal shower room and had probably arranged something else for himself; second, Camus’s ability to make the execution of the most basic tasks look like elegant choreography apparently extends to washing his armpits; third, Camus’s slender appearance belies the toned muscles hiding under the suits he favours as casual wear. Quickly hanging up his towel, Otoya walks into the shower area before he loses his nerve. He’s actually touched Camus after all, a feat very few (if any) of his bandmates can boast of – there should be nothing to worry about, right? 

            He places his shower gel and shampoo bottles on the floor, then drapes his wash cloth over the shower gel so it’s not touching the floor. He adjusts the shower’s faucets to the right temperature and pressure, and his hum of pleasure thrums quietly throughout the shower room as the warm water pummels his aching muscles into submission. Ruffling his hair under the water to get it soaked all the way through, he glances around for his shampoo and catches a glimpse of Camus out of the corner of his eye. The irrational desire to lick him bubbles up once more, and Otoya takes the chance to surreptitiously observe Camus while pretending to really enjoy washing his hair. 

            Camus has turned so that his back is now to the water. His head is tipped back so his neck is bare, letting the spray and gravity pull the shampoo out of his silky shoulder-length hair. After running his fingers through his hair and being satisfied with the results, he bends at his waist to pick up a bottle of conditioner, and Otoya swallows at the sight of his long legs and firm ass. Camus straightens and works some conditioner into his hair, focusing on the ends, then twists his hair up loosely and holds it in place with a clip. Otoya slowly rinses his hair as Camus briefly rinses the conditioner off his hands and picks up a small jar from the floor. Curious, Otoya inadvertently abandons the pretense of washing his hair and just stares, eyes wide, as Camus scoops out some horrible-looking brown goop and starts working it into his face. Otoya’s illusion of Camus’s flawless beauty and grace shatters to the metaphorical floor, and his mouth starts moving before his brain can catch up. 

            “What the heck is that, Camus-senpai?” Otoya blurts out. “It looks super gross.” 

            Camus casts a frosty glare in his direction, but the brown goop covering his face lessens its impact on Otoya’s psyche significantly, and Camus adopts a tone and facial expression of exasperated resignation. “If you must know, Ittoki, this is a brown sugar facial scrub.” 

            “You…wash your face with sugar?” 

            “Occasionally. This is a mixture of brown sugar, honey, and lemon juice, among other things. Though not nearly as damaging as salt, it is abrasive, so it is not to be done more than once or twice a week.” 

            The whole thing seems ridiculous to Otoya – who ever heard of washing one’s face with sugar? Wouldn’t that be sticky, as well as a waste of perfectly good food?  _If he_ _’_ _s joking with me_ , Otoya thinks,  _he_ _’_ _s got a better poker face than Tokiya_ _. Only one way to find out…_  

            Boldly, he strides over to Camus and places a hand on his shoulder as though getting into position to waltz. However, instead of simply holding Camus’s hand, he brings it up to his mouth and licks at his fingertips, just enough to get a taste – after all, if it really is gross, he doesn’t want to endure it more than he has to. To his utter surprise, an explosion of sweetness erupts along the tip of his tongue, and his eyes widen in amazement. He looks up into Camus’s face and gets a second shock – Camus looks about as stunned as he feels. 

            “You…you actually…” Camus seems at a loss for words, and Otoya catches the slight tinge of pink building along Camus’s cheeks even as his eyes are narrowing into an indignant scowl. 

 _Ah, crap! I overdid it!_  Otoya panics a little.  _He_ _’_ _s_ _gonna_ _ye_ _ll at me for sure!_  “Sorry, sorry! I got impulsive!” He lets go of Camus and tries to step back, only to find his hand caught in a firm sticky grasp. “Camus-senpai?” 

            Camus twists Otoya’s hand gently over one way, then the other, like he’s examining a lab specimen. His expression has settled back into its usual taciturn frown, but there’s something else lurking there that Otoya can’t quite figure out – the sugar scrub covering Camus’s face is making it hard to judge his expression. The scrub remaining on Camus’s fingers sticks to Otoya’s hand, but he resists the urge to pull away – he doesn’t want to piss off Camus any more than he probably already has. 

            “Stay here.” It’s a command, not a request, and Otoya nods in obedience. Camus pulls Otoya’s hand under the shower, rinsing it, then releases it. He turns to face the shower and rinses off the scrub from his own face and hands, working the mixture carefully into his skin as he rinses. “Look away.” 

            “Uh…okay.” Otoya shifts his gaze to his towel hanging on the far wall, shivering a little as his body adjusts to the slight chill in the air. He concentrates on the hiss of the running water, waiting for Camus’s next instruction, which he’s thinking will be something like “Pass me my towel” or “Go stand in the corner”. What he’s not expecting is the quiet squelching sounds coming from Camus’s general direction, nor the almost inaudible grunting muffled by Camus’s running shower.  _There_ _’_ _s no way…_ Otoya thinks in shock.  _These sounds…they can_ _’_ _t be what I think they are…_  

            “Camus-senpai? Are you alright?” Otoya resists the urge to look at Camus, but feels an unmistakable pressure growing in his groin and shifts his hands as subtly as he can to cover his growing erection. Maybe those sounds aren’t what he thinks they are, and if Camus sees him in this state…well, he’s heard how harshly he scolds Cecil and doesn’t even want to imagine what mocking words Camus would have in store for him. 

            “Ittoki.” Otoya jumps at the sound of his name but doesn’t turn to face Camus. 

            “Ittoki, don’t bother hiding it. I know it’s there. Look at me.” Camus’s voice is as arrogant and commanding as always, and Otoya reluctantly obeys. He can feel the blush creeping up his cheeks from embarrassment, not only because of his raging boner but also because his erection is a direct response to whatever Camus had being doing, which might not have been as dirty and sexy as Otoya had imagined. However, nothing prepares him for the sight that greets him when he finally tears his gaze away from his towel to look at Camus as instructed. 

            Camus is facing the wall, bent over at a nearly 90° angle with his hands flat against it. His hair is still twisted up in the clip, but a few strands have come loose and now stick to his neck, plastered there by the water. Water streams over his back, and little rivulets trickle over his ass and down his thighs. His legs are spread slightly, and Otoya’s gaze is drawn to Camus’s very clean, very loose-looking asshole, twitching slightly. 

            “Umm…” 

            “You wanted to lick me so badly, so lick.” There’s a hint of mockery lacing Camus’s command, but also a healthy measure of daring with just a touch of…need? Otoya’s frozen, not sure if this is a test of some kind or…something else. 

            “I…can’t. There’s no way…” he swallows. “You don’t really want me to do…that…to you.” He rubs at his forehead as if he could erase the confusion building in his brain. 

            “Ittoki.” Camus cranes his head as far as it will go to look over his shoulder at Otoya. “Do I strike you as the kind of person who wouldn’t know my own mind?” 

            “N-no…” Otoya says cautiously. That tiny irrational part of his brain is practically screaming at him to take advantage of the situation, but the sensible part says that there’s a greater likelihood that this could come back to haunt him some day. Then again, this is  _Camus_. Perfect, flawless Camus, asking for something so…so… 

            “Well? Are you going to lick me or not?” Camus’s question pulls Otoya back to the present moment. Otoya wavers. He considers seriously turning down Camus’s proposition, gathering his shower stuff and hightailing it out of there, consequences be damned. And yet…and yet…Camus’s musky vanilla smell wafts gently, subtly through the air and Otoya’s resolve weakens. His erection strengthens, and he carefully moves into position. Kneeling down on the hard tile floor, hands shaking, he spreads Camus’s cheeks a little and noses at his crack. 

            “Hmmm…” Camus relaxes visibly, exhaling through his nose, and Otoya breathes a sigh of relief – surprisingly, he’s made the right choice. Camus’s smell is even more tantalizing up close, and the scent goes straight to his groin. Camus jolts at the rush of air from Otoya’s sigh brushing over his hole, then relaxes again. “Lick.” 

            Tentatively, Otoya spreads Camus’s cheeks a little more and eases his tongue into the crevice near the top. It’s just Camus’s skin, nothing more, but Otoya’s tongue thrills with the taste of him. He dips lower, deeper into Camus, gliding along the cleft until he reaches the top again. Finally, screwing up all his courage, he spreads Camus’s ass as much as he can and licks directly over his hole. 

            Camus’s strangled, choked-off moan combined with his heady sweetness rolling on Otoya’s tongue hits every nerve in Otoya’s body. He licks, and licks, and licks again, squeezing and releasing Camus’s ass as his cock throbs with desire. He needs more of Camus’s taste – licking over the surface of Camus’s hole isn’t enough. He nibbles at Camus’s thighs, mouths over the curves of his ass, searching for more, and keeps coming back to Camus’s hole, twitching even more than before. Otoya barely takes in the heave of Camus’s back as he pants and the shaking of his thighs as he strains to maintain his position. Otoya’s own knees are aching from kneeling on the unforgiving tile floor, and he has no control over his own little noises that insist on slipping out, but now that he’s had a taste of Camus, he’s addicted. His cock is dripping with precome, and he’s hit with the realization that he will kneel on this floor for hours if it means he can keep indulging in the taste of Camus. 

 _I_ _wonder…_  

            He licks at Camus’s hole once more, but instead of passing over it, he lingers, pressing the tip of his tongue firmly into the twitching entrance. Another stifled moan rips through the air as Camus shudders involuntarily, and Otoya’s caught off-guard when his tongue sinks easily into the hole.  _O_ _h, it_ _’_ _s sweet here too…_ _but a little different._ His attempt at processing this new taste is cut off when Camus’s hole clenches suddenly around his tongue, and he yelps in surprise as he pulls it out. 

            “Put it back, Ittoki!” Camus’s command is not arrogant or frosty, but needy and demanding, and his tone lances straight through Otoya’s groin. Quickly, he slides his tongue between Camus’s ass cheeks and presses his tongue against his hole again, maintaining the pressure until his tongue slips in once more. He hums into Camus’s ass as he wiggles his tongue in deeper, resisting the urge to withdraw when Camus clenches around him again.  _Ah, this sweetness…it_ _’_ _s the same as the stuff he used on his face_ , he realizes.  _That must have hurt to use, since it_ _’_ _s_ _kinda_ _rough_ _. But he also tastes like himself…so_ _good…_ _even though it_ _’_ _s his_ _butt, it_ _’_ _s sweet…_  

            “Ittoki,” Camus rasps, and Otoya is startled out of his thoughts at the dramatic change in Camus’s voice. “…with your tongue – thrust with your tongue.” 

            Otoya hums to let Camus know he heard him, then tries to figure out exactly how to give Camus what he’s asked for. He pulls his tongue almost all the way out, then pushes it back in as far as it will go with as much force as he can manage. 

            “Again!” Camus’s order sounds more like a plea, and Otoya complies. Again and again he thrusts, finding a rhythm that has Camus bucking into his face and leaving his nose slightly sore from occasionally banging into Camus’s coccyx. His tongue feels like it’s going to fall off and his dick’s so hard it aches, but he’s both intoxicated with Camus’s taste and determined to give Camus what he wants. Either way, this experience is going to kill him. 

            Suddenly Camus’s hips stutter, his knees buckle, and with a reluctant groan, he surrenders his orgasm to Otoya’s tongue. Come spatters the tile in front of Otoya’s knees, as creamy-coloured as Camus’s dance shoes. Otoya surges to his feet, moving purely on instinct, and with a few roughly-executed rapid pumps spurts a perfectly straight vertical line up the centre of Camus’s back. He stands there, gasping, and just when he thinks he’s recovered, Camus’s scent wafts up once more and he twitches out a messy blob over Camus’s ass cheek. He stands there clutching his dick like an idiot, watching the blob ooze over the curve of Camus’s ass as the enormity of what he’s just done slowly sinks in. He tries to speak, but it takes a second for his tongue to remember how to form words. 

            “S-sorry, Camus-senpai…I…I got impulsive again,” he pants out, finally releasing his grip on his cock. 

            With snail-paced slowness, Camus straightens from his position against the wall but doesn’t turn around, and Otoya can see him resisting the urge to rub the obvious muscle cramps spasming in his lower back. He releases his hair from its clip, letting it fall in stringy chunks. “You did nothing to merit an apology,” he finally says quietly, running his fingers through his hair to rinse out the conditioner. Something tells Otoya that this is as close to getting some kind of acknowledgement from Camus as he’s going to get. He moves to run a hand through his hair, but realizes his hand is still covered in come. 

            “I’m, um, just gonna finish up over there…” he says lamely. When he’s met with no objection, he walks over to his still-running shower and rinses his hands before scrubbing himself down with his shower gel. His head is hazy, and his body is on autopilot. Before he realizes it, he’s the only one left in the shower room. With doubt still lingering in the back of his mind, he gathers his things, turns off the water, wraps his towel around his waist and leaves. 

V_@_~~~~_@_V 

            When a small ice-blue cake box filled with vibrant red macarons shows up the next day on Otoya’s desk in his room, Otoya is puzzled…until he sees a small white card tied to the box’s ribbon. There’s no name, but one glance at the impeccable handwriting tells Otoya all he needs to know: 

 _~From one sweet tooth to another~_  

            Otoya breathes a sigh of relief. For once, he’s looking forward to tomorrow’s waltzing lesson. 

V_@_ _~_ ~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OTOYA'S PURITY AND INNOCENCE IS RUINED FOREVER - I'M SORRY!!!!!!!
> 
> That said, this was really fun to write, especially because I couldn't get the thought of Camus using a sugar-based exfoliant out of my head. Throw in Otoya's sweet tooth and...well...all I can say is that this is probably the only CamYa/OtoMu fic in existence. That's probably a good thing.
> 
> Look for the next, equally awkward chapter on October 16!


	4. Tokiya X Ranmaru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s common knowledge that Ranmaru can take a nap just about anywhere, but Tokiya’s surprised to find out that “anywhere” unexpectedly includes the shower room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what happens when you experiment with shipping two introverts who are REALLY bad at feelings? A FRIGGIN' LONG CHAPTER, that's what.
> 
>  
> 
> That is all.
> 
> Oh, and just a reminder that the phrase "itadakimasu", usually said before consuming a meal, means something like "I gratefully receive this food."

            “Variety show…of all the things…it just had to be another variety show…”

            Tokiya’s in a foul mood. And also covered in banana cream pie. He feels sticky and fake, and all he can think about is how much he just wants to go home. Otoya and Reiji are cackling like idiots over sinks in the bathroom, trying to get most of the pie out of their hair – “but not all of it,” the producer had said. “Gotta play it up for the audience, make it look like you’re suffering a little.” And oh, Tokiya is suffering alright. He bends over the garbage can with a plastic comb and does his best to scrape out the worst of it while still complying with the producer’s instructions, because he’s a professional and professionals don’t let their emotions get the better of them.

            Theoretically.      

            The comb follows the pie into the garbage can rather violently and Tokiya stalks off to the stairwell for a moment of peace before the second half of the show begins.

            The stairwell is cool and dim, and Tokiya sits on the top stair out of the range of the door – the last thing he needs is to get smacked in the head on top of being creamed with pie. He rests his head against the metal railing and closes his eyes, taking deep breaths and willing himself to calm down. _Only a few more hours left and then it will be over_ , he thinks, then sighs. He can’t give up now, he _won’t_ give up, but he’s starting to realize that having a second debut hasn’t solved all the problems he had experienced as HAYATO. Sure, he gets to sing more than before, and the camaraderie he experiences as being part of STARISH is pleasantly novel, but since Reiji’s specialty seems to be variety shows, he’s back on the variety show circuit under Reiji’s mentorship. Just like before, he must bear every asinine joke, tolerate every penalty game, but now he can’t even hide behind his HAYATO persona, because he’s created this new “Tokiya” persona, who’s always stoic and longsuffering and the straightman to every one of Reiji’s jokes or Otoya’s antics. Who knew being himself could be so wearying?

            A small scuffle and a snort from the landing directly below jolts Tokiya out of his reverie, and he cautiously peeks through the bars in the railing to see if he can catch a glimpse of whoever might be lurking on the flight of stairs below. The stairs extend upwards for several floors, snaking back and forth in endless switchbacks, but Tokiya’s on the ground floor, and there’s only one switchback that leads to a storage closet under the stairs. There’s no reason for anyone to be down there – then again, Tokiya would have a hard time justifying his own presence in the stairway to anyone who didn’t understand his need for solitude. Another scuffle drifts up the stairway, this time accompanied by a groan and a quiet incoherent mumble. Tokiya breathes a sigh of relief – he’s pretty sure he recognizes the voice. He steps down the stairs and looks over the railing properly to confirm.

            Ranmaru is slouched over on an upturned bucket, one leg stretched out and both arms crossed over his chest. The small frown creasing his forehead twitches, and Tokiya suspects it won’t take much to wake him. With a quick glance at his phone, he confirms that there’s only about ten minutes left before prep for the second half of the show begins, so he descends the last half of the stairs, braces himself for Ranmaru’s wrath, and gently shakes the rocker’s shoulder.

            “Kurosaki-san. Kurosaki-san, you need to wake up now.”

            “Huh?” Ranmaru groans, lifting a hand to his face. “Shit, looks like I was found…” He rubs his eyes and blinks up blearily at Tokiya. Everything about Ranmaru’s posture screams _I don’t want to be here_ , and Tokiya can relate whole-heartedly. That said, he’s not feeling overly-sympathetic – Ranmaru, along with Ren and Masato, are their opponents on this variety show and the cause of Tokiya getting marinated in pie. No, scratch that – Reiji and Otoya’s idiotic antics are the cause of Tokiya getting marinated in pie, but Ranmaru’s team hadn’t been exactly helpful either.

            “Kurosaki-san, we don’t have much time before the show begins again. You need to wake up now, please.”

            “Shut up, ‘m awake,” Ranmaru growls. He stretches his arms over his head as far as his leather jacket permits, then unfolds himself from his perch on the bucket. The top-most spikes of his hair almost touch the landing above his head, and Tokiya can’t help but stare. There’s only about an inch’s difference in height between them, which is probably why Tokiya always forgets just how tall Ranmaru really is. The fact that he’s almost always slouched over his bass or curled up in some corner napping doesn’t help Tokiya’s memory either.

            “You smell like banana,” Ranmaru comments, passing Tokiya on his way to the stairs.

            “Yes, unfortunately,” Tokiya says. “The producer wants the losing team to wear the evidence of their loss for as long as possible.” He tries to maintain a neutral tone, but some of his earlier frustration must have leaked out because Ranmaru turns, one foot on the bottom step, and looks at him with a quizzical scowl.

            “Didn’t take you for a sore loser, Tokiya,” he grunts out.

            “No, no, it’s not that at all, it’s just…” Tokiya sighs a little. “Variety shows are not one of my favourite activities.”

            Ranmaru barks out a cynical laugh and heads up the steps. “Not mine either, but in this business you gotta do what you gotta do.”

            “Indeed,” Tokiya nods. “Though knowing that doesn’t seem to make it any easier. I’d give anything for a cup of tea, a book, and some silence right now.”

            “Heh, I get that.” Ranmaru plods up the stairs and Tokiya follows close behind. “For me, as long as I’ve got my bass and a place to nap, I can get through anything.”

            They’re at the top of the stairs now, and Ranmaru starts to pull on the door. Suddenly he turns and looks – really _looks_ – at Tokiya, and Tokiya stops short and knocks into Ranmaru’s elbow and shoulder. It’s only for a few seconds, but it’s enough to throw Tokiya mentally off-balance, so he’s not prepared when Ranmaru scrapes a thumb along his jaw, gathers a fingerful of pie filling, and pops it in his mouth.

            “Ugh, too sweet. Glad I wasn’t nailed with the stuff. See you on the stage, kid.” He slouches off, and Tokiya stares after him, confused.

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            When they all get back to the dorm, Tokiya still feels like crap. Thankfully there had been some showers at the studio, so he had been able to rinse off and change into clean clothes, but it’s just not the same. More than just feeling physically disgusting, Tokiya feels emotionally drained and hating himself for resenting the second chance he’s been given. As he listens to Reiji and Otoya chatter and re-enact their favourite parts of the show, the need for silence suddenly crashes over him like a tidal wave of bricks, and he can’t seem to get enough air in his lungs to gasp out, “I’m going to take a shower,” before scooping up his shower stuff and running down the hall for dear life.

            He dashes into the communal shower room and leans back against the back of the door, breathing heavily. _What’s come over me all of a sudden?_ he thinks, panicking _. These feelings…I should be managing them better than this. Just because I’ve gotten a second debut doesn’t mean my professional experience has disappeared_. He straightens up and walks toward the baskets on the shelves and slowly undresses, folding each article of clothing into a basket. _How did I cope before joining STARISH? I can’t remember…have I really come to rely on others so much?_ The thought leaves him extremely unsettled, but he can’t pinpoint why.

            He rounds the corner to hang his towel and stops short, puzzled. Ranmaru’s already in the shower area, but Tokiya would hardly describe him as taking a shower. He hangs his towel and selects a shower, trying not to stare.

            Ranmaru’s under a running shower, seated on a familiar-looking onsen stool with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His eyes are closed, his breathing even and slow. Water pounds over his shoulders and splashes into his hair, flattening and smoothing out his characteristic fluffy spikes. The water’s temperature must be nearing the hottest it can go, because the skin around Ranmaru’s shoulders and neck is tinged a deep pink, in stark contrast to his pale arms and thighs. He’s so still, so quiet, that Tokiya can almost forget he’s there – except for the sheer strangeness of having a showermate who’s not actually showering.

            “Oi.”

            Tokiya flinches. “Sorry, Kurosaki-san. I was trying to figure out if you were asleep.”

            Ranmaru unfolds himself and stretches his arms up over his head. “I was. I can almost always tell when someone’s around though.”

            “Oh.”

            Ranmaru runs his fingers through his hair and rubs at his face, and Tokiya turns away to face into his own shower. They go about their business in silence, but Tokiya’s mind is buzzing with a million different thoughts and feelings, too numerous and mixed up to articulate properly. If he could just slow his brain down, separate each idea, and discard what he doesn’t need, he’d be fine, but his brain refuses to slow down today. The overwhelming energy and unpredictability of events like variety shows have always tended to get the better of him, set him on edge, and keep him overthinking things, but his past experiences seem like a walk in the park compared to how he’s feeling now.

            “You…”

            Ranmaru’s voice startles Tokiya out of his thoughts, making him jump, and he tries to make his facial expression feel as neutral as possible before facing Ranmaru.

            “Yes, Kurosaki-san?”

            There was a long pause as Ranmaru seems to wrestle his thoughts in order – or fight off the impulse to nap. Tokiya can’t quite tell, but the deepening crease on Ranmaru’s forehead makes him a little worried. It hasn’t been all that long since the Master Course began, but Tokiya’s already observed how Ranmaru behaves like a dormant volcano, all quiet and sulky until some seemingly unimportant event triggers an explosive reaction. Maybe Tokiya’s presence had been enough to set him off, and Tokiya mentally braces himself against the impending outburst – though a tiny voice in the back of his mind tells him he’s in no condition to withstand the onslaught.

            “You…” Ranmaru starts again. “Today sucks for you, doesn’t it.”

            It’s a statement of fact, not a question, and Tokiya blinks. This is not what he had been expecting at all. “I…well, that is…”

            “It’s written all over your face. Pisses me off.”

             _What?_ Tokiya’s eyes narrow, and he’s tempted to either continue showering or just walk away, but he stands his ground, fixing his gaze on Ranmaru. _There’s got to be more to what he’s saying than what appears on the surface_. He recalls the brief moment of understanding they had shared on the stairs back at the studio and waits for Ranmaru to explain himself.

            But Ranmaru doesn’t explain himself. He just starts washing himself with a bar of soap and a washcloth he had stashed under the stool. The silence drags on, and Tokiya’s bad mood surfaces once more. Ranmaru has always made it very clear that he doesn’t give a damn about the people he works with and has always treated his role as a senpai in the Master Course as an inconvenience. Why do Tokiya’s feelings suddenly matter to him now? And why do they piss him off?

            Tokiya takes a deep breath and tries to stay calm, but he can’t help sounding just the slightest bit snarky. “Excuse me, Kurosaki-san, but how has my day upset you? Did you really want to be covered in banana cream pie that badly? I’m sure Shinomiya-san would be more than happy to whip up something suitable.”

            “That shit? No way – it was so sweet and artificial that Natsuki’s version would probably be an improvement. Anyway, it has nothing to do with the pie.”

            “So what is it?” Tokiya presses. “You can’t just say something like ‘Your face pisses me off’ and expect me to be fine with that.”

            “Forget I said anything. Just slipped out.”

            “The circumstances are irrelevant,” Tokiya states. “The fact is that you said what you said, I heard you, and now I want to know why. You hardly ever take an interest in anyone and have no care for how your own behaviour affects others, yet you have the audacity to criticize me for…what? Frowning?” Tokiya can hear himself getting a little hysterical, slipping further away from using the polite speech he’s drilled himself to use no matter what, but now he’s losing control and can’t seem to stop himself from flinging out one irrational thought after another. “Perhaps my error lies in coming here to calm myself with a warm shower and some quiet. I apologize, then, for having intruded on your _private_ time in the _public_ shower, especially since I engaged in the apparently inappropriate act of getting clean while you were clearly demonstrating the correct method for using the communal showers…”

            “Oi, Tokiya.”            

            “Perhaps I shall ignore all other social norms and simply fall asleep wherever I like as well, since that’s clearly the best way to be a successful idol. Obviously, working hard and bending over backwards to meet every demand thrown at me, no matter how unreasonable, was where I went wrong during my first attempt…”

             _“Tokiya.”_

            “Even better, maybe this bad mood of mine will become a permanent fixture, and I’ll perfect the fine art of pissing off everyone around me. Then Shining Agency will have to manage _two_ asshole cash cows, and they won’t be able to fire either of us because you’re too valuable and I’ll…”

            “Ichinose Tokiya, that’s enough outta you!” Ranmaru roars, rising from his stool and striding over to where Tokiya’s digging his fingernails into his palms and fighting off the stinging sensation in his eyes even as he’s scowling at Ranmaru’s approaching figure.

            “What, did I say something out of turn, _senpai_?” Tokiya spits out the honorific sarcastically, his defenses up but feeling way too vulnerable, like he’s trying to hide behind a wall made of a single layer of plastic wrap. Whatever Ranmaru does or says next will likely finish him in one blow, and all his carefully curated self-control will be obliterated forever.

            Suddenly Ranmaru’s hand slaps over Tokiya’s mouth while his other hand cups the back of his head. “You need to shut up and calm the fuck down, brat. Spoutin’ off that kind of crap won’t solve anything. You’re lucky I’m not takin’ anything you said just now personally.” He straightens and starts pulling on Tokiya’s head as though there isn’t a body attached to it, like he’s simply carrying a basketball. “Come ‘ere, sit.”

            Tokiya stumbles a little, trying not to slip, as Ranmaru forcibly guides his body to the onsen stool and pushes him down onto it, releasing his face when he sits.

            “Kurosaki-san, what-”

            “I told you to shut up. I’d’a punched you out long ago if it wasn’t for that photoshoot an’ interview you gotta do tomorrow, but make no mistake – if you keep talking, you will get hurt.”

            Tokiya clamps his mouth shut, keeping his eyes up on Ranmaru’s face as Ranmaru stands in front of him with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. The water pounding over his shoulders from Ranmaru’s running shower is scalding, but not unbearable, and he waits for Ranmaru’s next move.

            Suddenly Ranmaru rubs at the frown lines creasing his brow and huffs. “Guess I gotta take responsibility for this mess.” Tokiya’s eyes follow him as he walks to the shower Tokiya had been using, shuts off the water, and grabs Tokiya’s shower stuff from the floor. Sliding in between Tokiya and the running water of his own shower, Ranmaru plunks down Tokiya’s bottles and begins running his fingers through Tokiya’s hair, surprisingly gentle.

             _What?!_ Tokiya’s brain short-circuits. _Wasn’t this guy just saying he wants to punch me?_

            “Kurosaki-san, I don’t-”

            “Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” Ranmaru’s fingers tighten into a fist in Tokiya’s hair and he hauls down on his head to make Tokiya look up at him. “Your turn to talk is over. You’ve got nothin’ in that head of yours worth hearin’ right now anyway.” He releases Tokiya’s hair and resumes gently combing through it with his fingers, occasionally switching to scratching gently at his scalp. After a few minutes, the oddness of the situation fades and Tokiya can feel himself reluctantly relaxing under Ranmaru’s touch. When was the last time anyone played with his hair? To be sure, certain shower-related events took place last year in which his hair was pulled (not that he would ever admit to remembering or, heaven forbid, enjoying those events – nope, nuh-uh, never), but this is different. And it’s _Ranmaru_ , of all people.

            Ranmaru’s hands leave Tokiya’s head for a moment, and Tokiya hears the sound of a bottle cap popping open and a soft squirting noise. Soon, Ranmaru’s fingers snake their way through Tokiya’s hair again, and the familiar smell of Tokiya’s favourite shampoo wafts through the air. Ranmaru massages Tokiya’s scalp and temples in small slow circles, firmly but not painfully.

            “I used to hate your guts, you know,” Ranmaru begins.

            Anger flares in the pit of Tokiya’s stomach, but he grits his teeth and says nothing, waiting.

            “Before I knew who you were, back when you were HAYATO. I’d see that stupid grin and hear that stupid greeting and just want to punch out whatever screen your face was on. When I heard HAYATO was retiring, I thought ‘good riddance’. Tip your head back.”

            Tokiya complies, and Ranmaru places a hand lengthwise on his forehead like the bill on a ball cap before moving out of the way of the water. The heat surges over Tokiya’s head and shoulders, but Ranmaru’s hand keeps the shampoo from streaming into his eyes while the other hand rinses the shampoo out of his hair. After a moment Ranmaru resumes his place between Tokiya and the water and starts working a second round of shampoo into Tokiya’s hair.

            “When I met you in person and found out the whole story from Ren, I gotta admit my whole opinion of you did a one-eighty. Here was this guy doing all kinds of shit he’d rather not do all for that one chance of doing the thing he really wanted to do. When it didn’t work out, you carved out your own path to a second chance, all on your own, runnin’ yourself into the ground just to make it happen. Sure, I think you should have cut ties with your old agency from the beginning, but still…gotta say, you had guts, kid.”

             _Had?_ Tokiya’s taken aback by the use of past tense.

            “Tip.”

            They repeat the same procedure as before, and this time Ranmaru starts working conditioner into his hair.

            “I thought you were the same as me – it’s better to do things on your own, not bothering with other people, since they’ll only let you down anyway. But seeing you now, wrapped up in STARISH like it’s your whole life but can’t even handle one shitty day on your own – where’s that guy who pushed through, did everything himself, and stayed sane the entire time? Huh? What happened to him?”

            Tokiya sighs, daring to speak. “I’d like to know myself.”

            Ranmaru guides Tokiya’s head back to rinse the conditioner out of his hair, then squats down in front of Tokiya so they’re about eye-level with each other. “Just...” he runs his fingers through his own wet hair, gathering his thoughts. “Don’t get too close to your bandmates. It’s making you weak. At the end of the day, you can only rely on yourself. Believe me, I’ve been there.”

            Tokiya takes in Ranmaru’s awkward sincerity, the intense gaze searching for Tokiya’s reaction, remembering the jumbled coupling of violent anger with the gentle ministrations on his hair. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest as he realizes the paradox crouching before him and decides to take a risk.

            “You don’t really mean that, do you?” he asks quietly.

            “Huh?” Ranmaru scowls. “Didn’t you listen to a word I just said?”

            “I did,” Tokiya says, holding Ranmaru’s scowl with a steely gaze of his own. “I simply disagree. If you really felt that strongly about not relying on bandmates, you wouldn’t be going out of your way to give me advice, nor would you be doing anything as intimate as washing my hair. In short, your behaviour contradicts what you’ve said, which is why I don’t think you totally meant it.”

            Ranmaru finally looks away with a quiet _tch_ , and Tokiya realizes that thanks to Ranmaru, he’s calm enough to think clearly again. He’s got to make things right before he loses his chance or worse, triggers Ranmaru’s temper again. “To be fair, I also did not mean what I said earlier. I let my emotions get the better of me and took my frustration out on you. I apologize.”

            “No need. I shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

            “Still…” Tokiya pauses, thinking. “I don’t understand. You’re not even responsible for me in the Master Course, yet for some reason you’ve made it a priority to know that I have a photoshoot tomorrow, and you care enough that you didn’t just punch me anyway, though I certainly deserved it. Why bother with me at all?”

            Ranmaru gets up from his crouch in front of Tokiya and moves behind him, blocking the water. Tokiya’s scalp tingles as Ranmaru rakes his fingers through his hair, slowly and systematically teasing out the tangles and smoothing out the layers. Before he can stop himself, a small hum of contentment slips out, and he bites his lip in embarrassment. Thankfully, Ranmaru seems not to have heard him. Still, though the feeling is no less pleasant than before, Tokiya’s getting a little impatient with Ranmaru’s not-quite answers and avoidance tactics to his questions. Regretfully – _regretfully?_ – reaching up, he catches Ranmaru’s hand midway and looks up, blinking away the droplets misting into his face from the running shower.

            “Kurosaki-san. I’m not a cat – stop petting me for a moment and answer my question. Why me?”

            Ranmaru’s eyes shift away from Tokiya’s face, and Tokiya’s not sure if the colour rising on Ranmaru’s cheeks is from the hot water or from embarrassment – until Ranmaru mumbles something so uncharacteristic Tokiya nearly falls off the stool in surprise.

            “It’s ‘cause it’s you, dumbass.”

            “Excuse me?”

            Tokiya yelps when he suddenly gets a face full of water as Ranmaru moves out of the way of the shower, but it’s only for a moment. Ranmaru shuts off the running water, but keeps his back to Tokiya, one hand on the wall with his back straight and his shoulders tensed. The water droplets trailing down his back glisten under the warm yellow glow of the shower room’s lights, and Tokiya’s mouth goes dry. It’s the first time he’s really gotten a good look at Ranmaru at his full height, without being slouched over his bass or folded up in some awkward position while napping. Not having clothes on is an unexpected added bonus, and the sight of him goes straight to Tokiya’s groin. _Why doesn’t this guy do more modelling? He’s beautiful…those muscles are perfectly toned, and his hips are…ah, stop it! Focus! But he really is…_

            “You give too much of yourself away, you know?” Ranmaru mumbles quietly, and if it wasn’t for the shower room’s resonance Tokiya would not have heard him at all. “What will you do when everyone you’ve given a piece of yourself to suddenly walks away when the goin’ gets tough or when they decide they’ve had enough? Be more selfish with yourself. It’s the only way you’re gonna survive in this business.”

            Tokiya slowly rises from the stool, heart pounding in his chest so hard he thinks it will explode. He can hear the pain lacing Ranmaru’s gruff tone, and he turns his words around in his head, looking for the real meaning in Ranmaru’s words.

            “I’m not sure I know how to do that,” Tokiya responds carefully, taking slow steps towards Ranmaru’s back. “As an idol, I’ve always thought my whole being is simply a commodity, nothing more. Ichinose Tokiya exists to be given away.”

            “Bullshit!” Ranmaru snaps, spinning around.

            “But you’ve considered that possibility as well, haven’t you?” Tokiya asks. “That we are all nothing more than products in Shining Agency’s talent inventory, to be sold on demand?”

            “That…” Ranmaru’s brow furrows as he tries to respond.

            Tokiya’s only a hand-breadth's distance from Ranmaru, and he gently places his hand on Ranmaru’s pale chest. “You don’t have to answer. Regardless of our status as commodities or human beings or whatever else you may consider, it seems like you know a thing or two about giving too much of yourself away. I don’t know how to be selfish yet, and you’ve been an idol longer than I have. Let me give something to you instead, to replenish what you’ve given away.” He lets his hand trail up Ranmaru’s neck, cupping his jaw and leaning in to place a gentle kiss on Ranmaru’s lips. _Oh_ , Tokiya blinks. _He’s shaking…or maybe it’s me – I can’t tell…_

            Tokiya’s scalp tingles when Ranmaru’s fingers bury themselves in Tokiya’s hair once more as he leans into Tokiya’s kiss. Too soon, he pulls away, but Tokiya’s relieved that Ranmaru’s usual scowl is now replaced with a gentle, if somewhat awkward smirk. “Smooth, kid. Lemme give you something, then. I’ll teach you how to be selfish.”

            Ranmaru spins Tokiya around so fast Tokiya can hardly catch his breath before he realizes his back is pinned to the cold tile wall and Ranmaru’s tongue is down his throat. While his brain kicks into overdrive trying to keep up with what’s happening, Ranmaru pulls away from his mouth and sucks on his earlobe. An embarrassing squeak echoes around the shower room, and it takes a moment for Tokiya to realize that it was _his_ voice.

            “You’re thinkin’ too much,” Ranmaru rumbles quietly, making Tokiya shiver as his breath tickles his ear. “If you can’t figure out how to take what you want, at least figure out how to accept something you’ve received.”

            “So every time you kiss me, I’m supposed to say ‘itadakimasu’?”

            “Dumbass…”

            Ranmaru drops to his knees and stuffs the whole of Tokiya’s cock into his mouth at once, and this time Tokiya’s fully aware of the high-pitched breathless groan he releases in response but is too overwhelmed to care. Ranmaru digs his thumbs into Tokiya’s hips, sending ticklish jolts of pleasure through his groin and making him weak in the knees. His hands thread through Ranmaru’s hair as he tries to steady himself – a slip now would not be pretty. But oh, Ranmaru’s tongue is swirling and gliding around Tokiya’s cock like a pole dancer, and Tokiya can barely remember to keep breathing as he takes in every sensation.

            “Kurosaki-san, I can’t…”

            “Shut up.” Ranmaru pulls his mouth off and starts working Tokiya with his hand, his other hand still pressing Tokiya’s hips firmly in place against the wall. “You’re gonna take everything I’m givin’ you, no complaints. Use those acting skills of yours if you have to and _pretend_ you deserve to be treated special until you start believing it.”

            Tokiya half gasps, half laughs. “Are you saying I’m special, Kurosaki-san?”

            Ranmaru doesn’t respond, but Tokiya spots the tips of his ears turning bright pink as he avoids answering the question by sucking down on Tokiya’s cock as if it held the elixir of life, making him shudder. The hand he had been using to stroke him slips around and cups Tokiya’s ass in a firm grip, and Tokiya’s brain melts into a useless puddle. His fingers tighten in Ranmaru’s hair and he gently rolls his hips in time with Ranmaru’s push-pull rhythm. The vibrations that course through his groin as Ranmaru hums his approval is too much – his knees buckle, and he slouches over, grasping at Ranmaru’s shoulders for support.

            “Oi! You alright?” Ranmaru brushes Tokiya’s hair away from his face and looks at him, right in the eye, and the lust mixed with concern on Ranmaru’s face pulls on heartstrings Tokiya never even knew he had.

            “Better than alright. Please…don’t stop.”

            “There you go,” Ranmaru huffs gently through his nose with a smirk as he helps Tokiya right himself against the wall. “Tell me what you want. Be selfish.”

            Tokiya fights through the haze of endorphins and adrenaline clouding his brain to come up with something, but finally just shrugs weakly. “I don’t know what I want, except -” Tokiya can feel his face burning with embarrassment, and he stutters to a halt.

            “Except?” prompts Ranmaru, tightening his grip on Tokiya’s ass and letting his other hand trail over Tokiya’s nipple. His eyes never leave Tokiya’s face, daring him to continue.

            “Except…” Tokiya swallows. “I want you.”

            “I can do that,” Ranmaru smirks, surging to his feet and lifting one of Tokiya’s legs completely off the floor, hooking his arm just under the crook of Tokiya’s knee. Tokiya scrambles for Ranmaru’s shoulders to keep from falling as Ranmaru’s face smashes into his for a heated, hungry kiss. Their tongues tangle, teeth nipping at each other’s sensitive spots and lips sucking on whatever parts of each other’s faces they can latch on to, and Tokiya’s no longer sure who is devouring who.

            “Kurosaki-san!” Tokiya yelps in surprise as one long finger suddenly presses firmly against his asshole. “I’m not – I’ve never…”

            “’s alright, I won’t hurt you. Just wanted to see how easy you’d go,” Ranmaru murmurs in his ear. “I know you said you want me, but how much of me do you want?” He rubs firm, insistent circles over Tokiya’s hole, making him shiver and tingle in places he never knew he had. “I’ll give you everything, if you want it. But I gotta know, and you gotta tell me before I go any further. Got it?”

            “I understand,” Tokiya gasps. “Please…I want…give me everything, before I start overthinking this. I promise, I’ll be fine.” He runs a hand through Ranmaru’s hair, and he can’t stop the smile spreading over his face when he catches Ranmaru’s quiet hum of pleasure. “I’ll be fine.”

            “You’re not just giving in to me, are you?” Ranmaru leans back, eyes narrowing as he searches Tokiya’s face for clues. “’Cause if you are, I’m gonna be pissed.”

            Tokiya closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Ranmaru’s too perceptive to fall for sugar-coated niceties, and Tokiya realizes he’s been doing his own share of dodging questions, except that the questions he’s been dodging are his own. _Seems I’m not very honest with myself, after all – moreover, it’s Kurosaki-san of all people who’s made me realize this…unbelievable_. He snickers quietly at the thought, even as he can feel his face reddening once more, and Ranmaru cocks an eyebrow, puzzled. “I’m not giving in to you. This is what I want – you are what I want, right here, right now. Let me have you.”

            Ranmaru holds his gaze a second longer, then with a curt nod releases Tokiya’s leg long enough to grab Tokiya’s shampoo.

            “The conditioner will work better, if I understand your intentions,” Tokiya states, and is surprised to find that his voice doesn’t shake nearly as much as he had expected it to.

            Ranmaru opens his mouth as if to ask how Tokiya came by this insight but seems to think better of it and switches out the shampoo for the conditioner instead. Squirting out a generous blob into his palm, he coats his fingers liberally as he moves back into position in front of Tokiya.

            “Lift.”

            Tokiya lifts his leg and Ranmaru supports it in the crook of his arm, letting Tokiya find his balance and looping his arms around Ranmaru’s neck for support. Tokiya’s last coherent thought – _I can’t believe I’m doing this_ – blinks out of existence as Ranmaru’s long, slender finger eases into his hole. The stretch is nothing like he’s ever felt before – invasive, a little awkward, but not as painful as he had expected. A little wiggling, a little readjustment, Ranmaru murmuring “Just relax,” in his ear…and suddenly stars explode across his vision and he grips Ranmaru’s neck like a lifeline as he moans in surprised pleasure.

            “Heh, I knew you’d go easy,” Ranmaru chuckles, and his self-satisfied tone doesn’t grate on Tokiya’s nerves as much it probably should have. He wiggles his finger again, and Tokiya wobbles as he moans.

            “I never knew…never felt…”

            “Just relax an’ enjoy. Don’t hold anything back – you’ve been doin’ that all day.” Ranmaru angles his head and licks at Tokiya’s nipple, making him jolt. “I’ve got you.”

            One more finger-thrust to his sweet spot is all it takes for the last of Tokiya’s defenses to fall away. “More, Kurosaki-san…I want more…”

            Ranmaru slides a second finger into Tokiya’s hole, spreading and curling his fingers while mashing his face into Tokiya’s for a possessive kiss. Every nerve ending is on fire with lust, and it’s taking everything Tokiya’s got just to keep his balance. He tightens his arms around Ranmaru’s neck and shoves his own tongue down Ranmaru’s throat, just to make a point – _these feelings are mine, these sensations are mine, this man is mine_ – and is rewarded when Ranmaru makes a choked-off noise of surprise and his rhythm stutters. He’s quick to recover though, and resumes spreading Tokiya wide open. Tokiya moans into Ranmaru’s mouth as he explores every inch with gusto, running his tongue along the roof of his mouth, then along his molars. Suddenly Ranmaru’s tongue springs to life, pushing Tokiya’s out of the way – just in time for a third finger to slip in.

            “Kuro- ah!”

            “Didn’t want you to bite me,” Ranmaru murmurs into his mouth, slowing his rhythm in Tokiya’s ass so that he can adjust.

            “It’s fine. Don’t move – need a moment,” Tokiya pants.

            “You got it.” Ranmaru leaves Tokiya’s mouth and peppers his throat with kisses, alternating between licking and sucking gently when he reaches his collarbone. Tokiya stiffens – a mark near his neck would at best be awkward to explain and at worst ruin his scheduled photoshoot.

            “Don’t worry, no marks,” Ranmaru reassures him as though reading his thoughts, and Tokiya relaxes, allowing himself to enjoy being spoiled by Ranmaru’s attention.

            “Can I move now?” Ranmaru asks, and the fog in Tokiya’s brain lifts just enough to realize Ranmaru’s arm is shaking slightly from exertion.

            “Yes, I think,” Tokiya nods.

            “Thank God,” Ranmaru huffs. “My arm’s gonna fall off. I think you’re stretched enough though.” He flexes his fingers in Tokiya’s ass, drawing his hand out slowly part of the way, then plunges in again, setting Tokiya’s senses on fire as he gasps.

            “I'm fine, Kurosaki-san, please…”

            “Just checkin’,” Ranmaru grins. “Plus, it's not everyday I get to hear you beg.”

            The obvious lust colouring Ranmaru’s words shoots straight to Tokiya’s cock, and before he realizes it he’s shaking, oozing come all over himself and dribbling onto Ranmaru’s arm between his legs. His face is on fire, and he starts to cover it with one hand, thoroughly embarrassed. _I’m an idiot, losing control like that…_

            “Nope.” Ranmaru pulls his fingers out of Tokiya’s ass, letting his leg fall to the ground as he catches Tokiya’s hand with his clean one before Tokiya can cover his face. “Don’t start thinkin’ about it – I’m not.” He spins Tokiya around, and the next thing he knows he’s getting up close and personal with the tile wall. His hands jerk up to keep his face safe just in time for Ranmaru’s fingers to bore into his ass once more, forcing his legs open. He thrusts deeply and slowly a few times, and Tokiya can't help rocking back on his heels to grind into Ranmaru’s hand. Without a word, Ranmaru pulls his hand out, and Tokiya whimpers – _whimpers!_ \- at the sudden emptiness. He’s never needed anything more badly in his life than at this moment, and he cranes his head to see if Ranmaru’s still there.

            Ranmaru had been working his length with conditioner, and Tokiya has turned his head just in time to see him lining up with Tokiya’s ass, a lusty smirk on his face. “Take a deep breath and sing for me.”

            He plunges in.

            Tokiya screams.

            He screams long and loud, releasing everything that had been building up since he walked into the shower room – no, since the moment he woke up this morning and hauled himself over to the studio. Pleasure, pain, euphoria, frustration – it's all there, endlessly snarled and tangled up in that one single scream. He runs out of breath before he runs out of scream, but as he sucks in a lungful of air, he’s dimly aware of Ranmaru’s fingers digging into his hips, grunting and panting as he thrusts desperately above him.

            “Tokiya...Tokiya...”

            Tokiya can only groan in response, but his groin grows unbearably tight at how painfully needy Ranmaru sounds.

            “More, Kurosaki...ngh...more. I’m gonna...”

            “Me too, I’m gonna come! I’m coming...fuck!” Ranmaru gasps as Tokiya inadvertently clenches around his cock. Tokiya grinds his forehead into the cool tile wall as he shudders out a second orgasm, feeling Ranmaru lose control as a different kind warmth fills his insides. Ranmaru’s hands are strangling Tokiya’s hips in an iron grip, and he's breathing heavily, legs shaking from exertion. _I hope he's not relying on me to hold him up_ , Tokiya thinks wryly as his own knees knock together.

            “Kurosaki-san…” he coughs a little at the unexpected roughness tinging his voice, then swallows and tries again. “Could you…I mean, I need to sit down before I fall down.”

            “Mmm,” Ranmaru grunts. “Just say when.”

            Tokiya takes a few deep breaths and says, “Ok.”

            Ranmaru pulls out slowly, rubbing soothing circles over Tokiya’s ass with his thumbs as he withdraws. Suddenly he’s empty, and the reality of what they’ve just done finally sinks in when a slick warmth oozes slowly down his thighs. He sinks to his knees, hands trailing down the wall for support, and Ranmaru wraps his arm around his waist and sinks down with him. For what seems like an eternity, they kneel there in silence, catching their breath, as Tokiya scrapes up what’s left of his brain to attempt coherent thought.

            “…same coin,” he finally murmurs quietly.

            “Eh?”

            Tokiya snickers at the drowsiness in Ranmaru’s voice. “I was just thinking.”

            “Thought I told you to cut that out,” Ranmaru mumbles, but there’s no harshness there, and Tokiya takes that as permission to continue.

            “Giving and taking – they’re two sides of the same coin. That’s all I was thinking.”

            Ranmaru grunts noncommittaly, but Tokiya allows himself a small smile when Ranmaru’s grip around his waist tightens just a little.

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            Ren strolls into the common area, whistling to himself and lost in thought. As he rounds the corner of the couch, however, the whistle dies on his lips and is replaced with slow, mischievous smile as he takes in the unusual sight before him.

            Ranmaru is stretched out on the couch, one arm over his face and his legs dangling over the arm of the couch. A script lays open face-down on his chest, rising and falling gently as he breathes. His other arm is draped low over his belly, fingers inches away from where Tokiya's head is resting in the crook of his hip. Tokiya, in turn, is propped up against the couch on an overstuffed cushion on the floor and snoring softly, with an open book draped over his thigh and looking entirely too comfortable with his head nestled in Ranmaru’s hip.

            Ren slips his phone out of his pocket, makes sure all his volume settings are muted, and snaps a few pictures from different angles. Sneaking back out of the common area, he scrolls through his newly-acquired treasures and selects the best one. He forms a new group chat with all the members of STARISH and QUARTET NIGHT (remembering to throw Cecil in the mix as well), then uploads the picture with a few short messages:

            <my, my…look what i found~>

            <I cant decide whos sleeping face is cuter, ran-chans or icchis>

            <lil help everyone? ;)>

  
             _I wonder who’ll be more embarrassed?_ Ren thinks with a smirk and saunters off down the hall, thoroughly pleased with himself.

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hee hee, Otoya's onsen stool made a cameo...
> 
> Looking back, it seems my general take on Tokiya in all the stories I've done so far is that he's secretly prone to hysterics, but his self-control is just so strong that his emotions rarely leak through uncontrolled. I'm not sure how I feel about this, but it does seem to fit based on some of his more emotional moments in the anime - and also how flustered he gets when he has to admit when he's acted out of emotions instead of logic. Meh, basically all I can say is that Tokiya took over and wrote himself, and Ranmaru and I just have to go with it...If you don't like it, blame Tokiya. =P
> 
> On another note, Chapter 5 is well underway, but real life is creeping up on me. So, just to be safe, it's likely that the next chapter will be posted on November 16, but if I get it done by November 1 I'll post it. Thanks for sticking with me, everyone!


	5. Masato X Ai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much to Masato’s discomfort, Ai’s people-watching hobby happens to include the shower room. In response, Ai tries to help him feel better about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: Text that looks like [THIS] indicates Ai's computer processes. Have fun with that...

            Occasionally, odd noises filter through the hallways of the Master Course dorm – Ai has come to accept this, though acceptance doesn’t mean he has to like it. Today, the odd noises seem to be coming from his own room – not surprising, since he shares it with two of the noisiest members of STARISH. This time though, there’s a new voice making the noises in his room, one Ai doesn’t usually lump with his noisier kouhai. He pauses outside the door, listening to the groans, thumps, and gasps emanating from behind the door.  

            “Ah, right there…ngh…more…” 

            “I’m giving it everything I’ve got!” 

            “Close…so close…Shinomiya-AHHH!” 

            Some scuffling. A muffled bang. 

            “Masato-kun, I’m sorry! Are you alright?” 

            A pause. Was that a whimper just now? 

            “Ah…it’s fine. It felt good. I’ll be alright.” 

            Ai opens the door, equal parts curious and exasperated – curious as to what could cause the generally quiet and reserved Masato to yell like  _that_ , and exasperated that his room is the source of the noise. 

            “Can’t you be more gentle when you massage people, Natsuki?” Syo’s yelling as Ai passes through the door. “You’re gonna break him if you’re not careful.” 

 _O_ _h, a massage_ , Ai thinks.  _That could certainly cause_ _someone like Masato to lose_ _composure_ _, especially considering Natsuki’s considerable physical attributes_. Ai settles into his desk chair, swiveling it around to observe Masato sweating and trembling as he lays face-down and shirtless on a massage table placed where the coffee table usually is while Syo and Natsuki bicker.  _Where did_ _Natsuki obtain a massage table anyway?_ _Furthermore,_ _if this were an exercise in practicing massage techniques_ _, Natsuki would normally request Syo_ _’s assistance – though I can understand Syo’s reluctance_ _. How_ _did Masato become involved?_ _Or p_ _erhaps Masato requested Natsuki’s help in_ _easing some muscle tension_ _, and Syo is not involved_ _at all_ _for once_ _. It’s certainly not unusual for Syo to be here, since he sleeps here_ _, but Masato’s presence, regardless of the circumstances, is highly irregular_ _._  

            “Mikaze-senpai.” 

            Ai blinks – he’s been staring at Masato without really seeing him, and realizes Masato has turned his head and made eye contact. His cheeks are pink, and Ai observes at least seventeen facial tics that indicate Masato’s experiencing physical discomfort. 

            “Could you…look away, please?” The blush on Masato’s face deepens. “You’ve been staring at me for some time, and it's…I find it disconcerting.” 

            “Interesting,” Ai replies, rising from his chair and stepping over to the back of the couch, his gaze never leaving Masato.  _Tense shoulders, breathing_ _shallow and unusually rapid, frequent blinking…_  

            [PROCESSING…] 

            [PROCESSING…] 

            “I find your reaction to my stare unusual,” Ai concludes, leaning over the back of the couch to get a better look at his face.  _Pupils_ _dilated_ _,_ _blood pressure increased,_ _body tensed…_  

            [PROCESSING…] 

             “As an idol, you should be accustomed to sustained attention directed at you by now. Was Natsuki’s massage ineffective for inducing relaxation?” 

            Masato seems even more flustered, propped up on his elbows as he leans away from Ai. “I haven’t done as many gravure photoshoots as the others, nor do my strengths lend themselves to a career focused on modeling.” As Ai leans in for a closer look at his face, Masato leans further back – and promptly disappears from Ai’s sight. 

 _Thunk_. 

            “Hijirikawa!” 

            “Masato-kun!” 

            In an instant Syo and Natsuki are at Masato's sides, helping him stand and checking him over for injuries. Natsuki scurries off to look for an icepack. 

            “Ai, what did you do? Hijirikawa wouldn’t just fall off the table for no reason.” Syo narrows his eyes accusingly at Ai. “Plus, his face is all red.” 

            “Kurusu, it’s alright,” Masato says quietly, and Ai notes that he avoids making eye contact with everyone by staring at the floor. “Let it be.” 

            “I did nothing to merit your accusatory tone, Syo, nor do I need to justify my actions to you,” Ai states, folding his arms over his chest – his kouhai clearly needs to be taken down a peg or two. “Besides, your own face is quite red as well.” 

            Syo’s face turns an even brighter shade of pink as he mumbles, “Coincidence.” 

            “Hardly,” Ai replies. “Clearly, it is apparent I need to tighten up your schedule – you still lack discipline.” He spins on his heel, already running simulations on variations of Syo's current schedule, looking for places to add exercises or shave off a few extra minutes to routines that are already in place. 

 _Crash!_  

            A crumbly, sticky blob trails down the side of Ai’s face, falling onto his shoulder with a wet plop. Natsuki's standing there holding a cake plate in shock. Another chunk slips through Ai's bangs, landing briefly on his nose before slipping off, falling somewhere on his shirt. 

            “Ai-chan, I'm sorry!” Natsuki exclaims. “I was just bringing some homemade cake to help Masato feel better – you move so quickly!” 

            Ai adjusts his face to his patented “I’m very disappointed in you” stare, and Natsuki has the sense to look properly guilty. “It appears I need to adjust your schedule as well, Natsuki, to include practices in being aware of your surroundings.” 

 _More importantly_ , Ai thinks to himself,  _how am I to clean myself off?_  

V_@_~~~~_@_V 

            Ai is well aware of his body's weakness to water, and though partial intermittent contact with water is tolerable, full-body submersion wears down his battery too quickly for him to recuperate. A weekly sponge bath is usually all he needs to maintain an acceptable level of cleanliness. However, the sticky goop Natsuki had called “cake” is going to require drastic measures. 

            Ai takes a plastic bag and a change of clothes along with his toiletries to the communal shower room. Undressing, he puts the dirty clothes in the bag and the clean ones in a basket. Hanging his towel on a hook, he selects a shower and turns on the water while standing out of the spray's trajectory. He holds his fingertips under the water and tests the water's temperature. 

            [28.4°C] 

            [32.8°C] 

            [35.9°C] 

            [37.6°C] 

            [OPTIMAL TEMPERATURE THRESHOLD REACHED] 

            Ai removes his hand from the water and bends over so that just his head is under the spray. He lingers just long enough to get his hair wet, then straightens – and catches sight of Masato hanging his towel on a hook. 

 _Five moles on his back…_ _musculature indicates he exercises to tone his muscles, not build them…good posture…_ _natural grace in his movements…_  

            Masato turns around, and their eyes meet. 

 _Elevated heart rate…flushed face…_ _muscles tensing…_  

            Masato drops his gaze and shuffles over to a shower, fiddling with the knobs until he seems satisfied with the pressure and temperature. Ai resumes his own awkward shower, carefully working shampoo into his hair as he processes Masato’s behaviour.  _There haven’t been many opportunities for me to observe Masato’s solo work or to interact with him individually._ _It hasn’t been necessary, so why am I now interested in collecting data?_ _Granted, there are many gaps existing in my current data regarding Masato, so I may as well observe and collect what I can_. He sifts through what he can recall about his interactions with Masato so far, and his fingers pause their scrubbing in his hair. Slicking his hair back and squeezing the shampoo out of his hair, he straightens his posture and stares at Masato’s back, thinking. 

            “Mikaze-senpai. Why do you insist on staring at me?” 

            Ai blinks. He can’t recall Masato looking over his shoulder or even shifting his eyes – how did he know Ai was observing him? As far as Ai can tell, Masato has expressed no inclination towards observing him in return. 

            “Though I was initially intrigued by your reactions to my attention, I find I lack sufficient data on your behaviours and mannerisms in general,” Ai states. “Understanding your interactions with your work and your colleagues may prove useful to me as a test subject.” 

            “Test…subject.” Masato turns back to his shower. “I see.” 

            Ai bends over to rinse his hair under the shower. “Does this make you uncomfortable?” 

            “Would it matter if it did?” 

            Ai lifts his head out of the shower again and squeezes as much water as he can out of his hair. He can feel his processors working hard to keep his body running, but after assessing his ambulatory stabilizers, he’s sure that he’s in no serious danger of falling over or shutting down. That said, he can feel a slight lag in his higher functions, making it a little harder to concentrate on assessing all the non-verbal aspects of this conversation. He frowns a little, thinking.  _This seems like an emotionally charged question_ _…how should I respond to his query?_  

            “I suppose since it matters to you, I should take that into account when observing you in the future,” he finally says, focusing as much power as he can afford into his higher-function processors to take in Masato’s reaction. 

            There’s a long pause. Did Masato hear him? 

            “I suppose that will have to do,” Masato quietly responds, but Ai notes several indicators in his posture and tone that imply that Masato’s words don’t match his emotional state. He attempts to amend his statement, but though his mouth moves his vocal processors glitch and he remains silent. 

 _I need_ _to do something to_ _fix this_ , Ai thinks as he swallows to reset his vocal processors.  _Though_ _I have no particular desire to change his personal opinion of me,_ _having him dislike me is not conducive to my data-collecting or his idol work_. He sifts through his memories, trying to come up with a solution, but the lag in his processors is impeding his judgement and recall nodes. The only thing he can think of is… 

            He walks over to Masato and places both hands over his shoulders, pressing his thumbs gently into the muscles connecting his shoulders with his shoulder blades.  _So tense…_  

            “Mikaze-senpai!” 

            Masato shakes off Ai's hands, spinning around. His expression is nothing like Ai has ever seen before on Masato’s face, and even without the lag in his processors he would have had trouble interpreting all the emotions competing for space there. Is he angry? Is he embarrassed? Is he in pain? 

            Ai lifts his hands again, resting them on Masato’s chest just under his collarbones.  _His skin is…pleasant to touch_. Out loud he says, “I apologize. Based on my previous observation of your recent interaction with Natsuki, I thought that a gentle touch might help you calm down. You…” he pauses, thinking. “You seem more high-strung than you let on. I admire your self-discipline.” 

            “I-is that so?” Masato stammers, and Ai notes the blush creeping up his neck. “Jinguji often tells me I have too much restraint.” 

            “I believe your restraint is a positive quality, but it also means I do not possess as much insight into your personality, personal opinions, or emotional state.” Ai starts rubbing small circles with his thumbs into Masato’s firm pectorals, fascinated with how soft and smooth his skin is. “These qualities are important for me to build a complete dataset of you.” 

            Long, slender fingers wrap themselves around Ai's hands and pull them gently away. “People have ascribed many different labels to me according to what suits their own purposes – heir, rival, idol, just to name a few. Dataset is a new one. Nevertheless, what they all have in common is that these titles are all other people’s choices – I have not chosen or claimed any of these for myself. Therefore, if all I am to you is a dataset, I'd rather not mean anything at all to you. I'd rather you simply ignore me completely than use me to fulfill your selfish ambitions.” Masato's tone is gentle and quiet, but his eyes are cold and resolute. 

 _Selfish…_ _is this what Masato thinks of me_ _?_ _Interesting_. Ai needs to think more carefully about this.“I see, but…” he begins, but suddenly a fiery sensation surges through his circuits and he doubles over, clutching his torso and sinking to his knees.  _What’s this?!_ _In all the times I’ve gotten wet_ _, this_ _has never happened before_ _…_ _it feels like pain, but different._ _I haven’t been injured…why?_  

            [PROCESSING…] 

            [PROCESSING…] 

            [FATAL ERROR] 

            [DOES NOT COMPUTE] 

            Firm hands grip his shoulders. Dimly Ai can hear Masato yelling, calling his name, but his vocal processors glitch again and all he can do his open and close his mouth like a fish out of water. The burning in his circuits finally starts to fade, but it feels like an eternity before the – pain? – becomes manageable. Even after he sucks in a large gulp of air to normalize the pressure in his auditory sensors and swallows to reset his vocal processors, Ai's body still feels too heavy for his hydraulic joints to handle. This is definitely not the effect of the water. 

            “…npai! Please, answer me. Mikaze-senpai!” 

            “Ah…I'm alright now, I think.” 

            Masato’s peering into his face, and Ai's struck with how novel it is to be examined with the same kind of scrutiny he uses on others. 

            “What happened? Can you stand?” 

            “…it hurts.”  _Please don't_ _ask_ _what hurts_ _or why,_ _Masato_ , Ai begs silently. _I haven’t a clue myself_ _._  

            He manages to lift his arms to Masato’s shoulders, holding Masato’s gaze. The concern in his eyes is so clearly expressed, it's hard to recall how distant he was just moments ago. As Masato lifts him to his feet, Ai goes over the events in his head rapidly, trying to pinpoint the moment when this new sensation had struck him. 

 _“_ _If all I am to you is a dataset…”_  

 _“I’d rather you simply ignore me_ _…”_  

 _“…_ _f_ _ulfill your selfish ambitions.”_  

            Ai's knees buckle as the sensation he's starting to call pain surges through his circuits again, causing Masato to tighten his grip to keep Ai from crumpling to the floor again. 

            “When you called me selfish…why does that cause me pain every time I recall it?” 

            “I’m sorry?” Masato’s concern turns to puzzlement. “I’m not sure I follow. I simply told you the truth. The truth is not always easy to hear.” He suddenly pauses, as if recalling something from long ago. Pushing Ai away, he mumbles, “or to say.” 

 _Another mystery?_  Ai's brain is too overworked to think.  _Doesn’t matter…well, it does, but not right now._ _All I want is not to feel this sensation anymore._ _Since it originated with Masato, it needs to end with Masato._  He stops his train of thought as he realizes what he just said to himself.  _All I want…_ _that’s the problem here, isn’t it?_ _So_ _then, what_ _does Masato want?_  

            Ai leans against the wall, out of the range of the spray of Masato’s shower. Now that the pain has died down, he takes stock of the rest of himself and finds he's not as bad as he had thought concerning the more familiar effects of the water. Masato’s back under the water, probably to stay warm, but he's not really doing anything except…watching Ai. An unexpected warmth surges through Ai's face as he meets Masato's gaze, and he flicks his eyes away as he runs another check on his systems for water damage.  _Oh, it's only my face that is over-heating – my neural network_ _is within normal_ _temperature_ _parameters. Odd, but not dangerous._  He looks back at Masato, who's still staring at him from beneath his shower.  _Well...this is new_ , Ai thinks.  

            “What do you want, Masato?” 

            Masato flicks his eyes away. 

            “You already know what I would like, and it makes me uncomfortable that you think I am selfish,” Ai continues. “Tell me what you want.” 

            Masato finally looks away, but Ai notices his breathing has become a little more rapid and shallow, and can see his shoulders tense up, hands curling slightly into fists. 

            “See me.” 

 _What?_  Ai quirks an eyebrow. Masato is by no means invisible, and Ai sifts through his colloquial language databanks to find a meaning that matches Masato’s words. Before he comes to a satisfactory answer, Masato moves out of the water, stepping closer to Ai. 

            “I’m not  _just_  an heir, _just_ a rival, or _j_ _ust_  an idol. I certainly do  _not_  want to be  _just_  a dataset.” Masato’s shoulders are shaking as his fists clench harder, and his brow furrows as he squeezes his eyes shut. Ai can see tears forming at the corners – Masato’s control is slipping, and Ai catches a glimpse of the deep undercurrent of emotion that drives Masato’s music, his acting, his very existence. Ai marvels how he manages to keep himself in check every waking moment without falling apart, the same way his human original on which he had been modeled once did. _Aine…_  

             “What I want is for someone to see all of me, all at once, not just the parts that fit their needs or expectations.” Masato opens his eyes, and the expression haunting them triggers a whole different kind of pain coursing through Ai's circuits, manifesting as a dull, insistent ache in his chest. “Mikaze-senpai, though I respect you and your experience as a working, successful idol, you cannot give me what I need with the way you are right now.” 

            Ai looks down – his hand has somehow moved all on its own and has formed a fist over the area of his chest that aches the most.  _Oh…when did that happen?_  Ai looks up and meets Masato’s eyes, processing his words and assessing his emotional state as well as he's able to – the dampness of the shower room is still making it difficult to think. 

            And then it all falls into place. 

            “Masato.” 

            Masato blinks as Ai places his hands on his shoulders. 

            “You are absolutely correct.” 

            “M-mikaze-sen-” 

            “And I apologize.” 

            Masato’s face turns crimson, and Ai places his hands on either side of his face. 

            “One of my hobbies is watching people, analysing their behaviour and predicting how they will react in different situations. Truth be told, it was a hobby I started because I needed to learn how to interact with others appropriately. Based on your reactions to our verbal interactions, it appears I'm still struggling in that area.” He moves his hands away from Masato’s face, letting them trail down his neck and over his chest. “I have made a serious error in blending my hobby with my work as a Master Class senpai, belittling your efforts to become the person you want to be on your own terms. I wanted to study you because I acknowledge your efforts. That is all.” 

            As Masato makes flustered noises of protest, Ai removes his hands and starts to slide along the wall he's leaning against to get around Masato and go back to his own shower. That other strange pain is coming back, that one in his chest that has nothing to do with water.  _I’m_ _sure I've caused enough trouble for Masato for now_ _,_ he thinks _. Anyone would want to be left alone_ _after something like this_. But as he slides, a slender, well-toned arm blocks his path as Masato's palm connects with the tiled wall behind him. 

            [PROCESSING…] 

 _What is happening_ _? Why is Masato…?_  

            [PROCESSING…] 

            “Senpai, are you saying…this was your way of trying to get to know me?” 

            Ai considers this for a moment.  _Right now, Masato needs reassurance to stabilize his emotions. His unusual_ _physical demonstration at this moment indicates he is particularly vulnerable, and_ _an incorrect response from me at this moment would likely cause significant damage to his career and his psyche_ _. Essentially, now is the time for me to take responsibility for_ _contributing to Masato’s insecurity._  Reaching up, he grasps Masato’s arm gently, squeezing it. 

            “Yes, Masato. I suppose that is correct. I want to know you better.” He squeezes Masato’s arm a little more firmly. “Can you…show me more of you?” 

            Soft lips press against Ai's neck, just under his ear. The sensation triggers millions of tiny pressure sensors in his skin, making him shake ever so slightly. _Oh...is this_ _how a shiver_ _feels?_  

            “Do you really want to see more?” Masato whispers. 

            “I want to see all of you,” Ai whispers back. 

            Masato leans in closer and tentatively licks Ai’s earlobe. “Then...allow me to m-make love to you.” 

 _If that is what it takes…_ “Alright.” 

            Masato’s arm is gone in an instant. “That was a test. A test! There’s no way you would allow me to do that kind of thing with you.” 

            Ai loops his arms around Masato’s neck, keeping him from backing away.  _Such an old-fashioned expression for se_ _x_ , Ai chuckles to himself, careful not to let his amusement show on his face. _How will he react if I respond_ _in kind_ _?_  “Then…do you want me to make love to you?” They’re nose to nose, and Ai watches the blush spread across Masato’s cheeks as he struggles to back away.  _Ah…perhaps I should use_ _a_ _different n_ _oun_ _._  “I don’t mind either position when it comes to copulation.” Masato struggles harder, and Ai’s ambulatory stabilizers threaten to give way. He releases him, allowing him the space he needs. 

            “I don’t mind that you were testing me. It makes sense that you would, given our recent exchange.” Ai takes a careful step forward. “Nevertheless, if something like intercourse is truly what you want, I am willing to go that far for you.” Ai sinks to his knees, keeping his eyes on Masato. “As I said, I want to see all of you. Will you let me?” 

            “This…this isn’t happening. I cannot believe you, Mikaze-senpai. It’s too…it’s so…” as Masato fishes for words, Ai notices that Masato’s taking tiny, reluctant steps towards him, inching closer even as he denies the existence of what is clearly happening in front of him. As he gets within arm’s reach, Ai reaches up and grasps his thighs. 

            “Sh…it’s alright. Let me do this for you, at least. You can decide how to proceed from here.” He licks at Masato’s cock, watching as Masato stuffs his whole fist against his mouth to muffle his groan. Using just his tongue, he eases Masato’s cock into his mouth and swallows, taking in as much as he can manage as he grips Masato’s thighs, pulling him close. 

            “Ugh…I can’t…you shouldn’t…” 

            Ai pulls off him but doesn’t let go of his thighs. “Are you asking me to stop?”  

            “I…” Masato hesitates. “Is this really alright?” 

            “Is this what you want?” Ai asks. 

            Masato’s shoulders heave as he takes deep, shaky breaths to calm himself. Slowly, he nods. 

 _Ah, so this is what it takes for him to be honest with himself_ , Ai notes. Gently, he pulls Masato’s hips closer and slowly swallows his cock, noting how it pushes against the back of his throat as it stiffens. He swirls his tongue around the head, and is rewarded with a small, strangled whimper. Pulling back, he locks eyes with Masato as he sucks down hard, allowing his lips to drag along his skin. Long, slender fingers thread their way through Ai’s damp hair, and Ai decides that means Masato is ready for more. Looking down, he pulls off Masato’s cock and fondles his balls with his tongue, alternating between licking and gently sucking. The fingers in his hair tighten their grip, and the gasping breaths above him grow more rapid and shallow. 

            “Masato...” Ai calls his name quietly, and the gasping breaths cease. He looks up to see that Masato has covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes are screwed shut.  _He’s still holding himself back...does he not think he deserves the attention he has asked for?_  He plants a kiss on Masato’s inner thigh. “Masato, how is this? Is this what you want?” 

            A small shiver works its way through Masato’s body, and he whispers so quietly that Ai, even with his superior hearing, almost misses it. 

            “More...” 

            “Oh?” Ai quirks an eyebrow. “Tell me.” 

            “Let me...take you. Please.” 

            Ai feels his face over-heat again, and that weird ache in his chest comes back.  _Why?_  

            [PROCESSING...] 

 _It’s just intercourse...it’s simply another physical act between people..._  

            [PROCESSING...] 

 _Why?_  

            And then Ai’s suddenly on his hands and knees, legs spread apart and asshole twitching as he deliberately relaxes it – an unexpected perk of having an android body, it seems. He rests on his elbows and looks over his shoulder, watching Masato’s reaction with – anticipation? That’s what this feeling is – anticipation. Of all the times Ai has politely told producers, directors, fellow idols “I’m looking forward to working with you”, this sensation coursing through his system has never been present to accompany his words. Then again, this situation is vastly different from simply working with someone. More importantly, he’s never approached any situation with anticipation before. He’s always known exactly what is going to happen, when it’s going to happen, and how it’s going to happen. Perhaps it’s because he doesn’t have much data on Masato, or perhaps it has something to do with never having engaged in this kind of sex before. Perhaps Ai can blame his exposure to the water for explaining the strange sensations coursing from his neural network. But however Ai thinks about this, one thing’s for sure – he's genuinely looking forward to experiencing Masato. 

            “What the- why are you going so far for me, senpai?” Masato stammers, not moving from where Ai had left him standing. 

            “Because you want me to,” Ai replies.  _Oh, he might think he's forcing me_ , he realizes and adds, “And because I want to.” 

            A tentative, shaky finger presses carefully at Ai's hole, and he shivers. The finger disappears, and Ai watches Masato fetch his conditioner. 

            “Sorry. This is all I have. Is this alright?” 

            “It’s fine.” 

            The cap pops open, followed by slick wet sounds as Masato warms the conditioner in his hands. Ai watches him over his shoulder – despite being nervous, Masato’s still fully erect, his balls hanging invitingly low. Ai wills his asshole to relax further and waits. 

            Masato’s finger presses again at Ai's hole, and this time it's warm and slippery. “Tell me if it hurts, senpai. At any time.” 

            “Understood,” Ai responds. He knows it’s not going to hurt unless Masato does something truly reckless, but then again, he has  _no_  idea exactly what Masato is going to do next. He shivers again as Masato prods at his hole again, the conditioner enhancing the sensitivity of his sensory perceptors to a degree that threatens to short-circuit his neural network. He gasps involuntarily, and Masato pauses. 

            “I’m alright, Masato,” Ai reassures him. “Continue.” 

            Masato presses against Ai’s hole again, resting his other hand on Ai’s hip for balance. Ai clenches his hands into fists and rests his forehead on them, focusing on the sensation of Masato’s fingers circling his hole, pressing against it, teasing it but too hesitant to claim it. The conditioner is warm and slick, and Masato’s fingers are long, slender, and uncalloused. Ai had been built as an idol robot, not a sex doll, but it seems his creator had wanted to give him as complete a human experience as possible, judging by how many sensors are triggering under Masato’s touch. 

            “Masato…it’s alright, I won’t break. You don’t need to hold back for my sake.” Ai looks over his shoulder again. “Please, show me what you want to do.” 

            Masato’s brow is wrinkled from concentration and flushed from…embarrassment? Ai looks closer – something about his eyes suggest something more intense than embarrassment is at work. 

            [PROCESSING…] 

            “I'm just making sure you are sufficiently prepared,” Masato mumbles, low and husky. “They’re rather long…my fingers…” 

            [PROCESSING…] 

            “…and I want to feel you as deeply as possible.” 

            [PROCESSING…] 

 _Oh…_ Ai blinks, and he can feel his face overheating – why does it keep doing that?  _That's not embarrassment on Masato’s face._ _So this is what Masato looks like when sexually_ _aroused. Rare data indeed…_  He prepares his preliminary analysis for archiving in his memory banks. 

            One long, slender finger slips into Ai's hole. 

            Ai gasps, shudders, and accidentally deletes his analysis. 

            But Ai no longer cares about analysis. Masato's finger slowly pushes deeper into Ai's hole, centimetre by centimetre, wiggling slightly and waiting for Ai to adjust before pushing further. It's excruciatingly slow, deliciously sensual, and Ai can’t process the sensations fast enough to make sense of them. Finally –  _finally_ – Masato’s palm presses against Ai's ass as his finger slides in as far as it will go. 

            “How is it? Are you alright?” 

            “I…am fine,” Ai manages a breathy mumble. “Proceed.” 

            Masato adjusts his grip on Ai's hip as he wiggles his finger just a little deeper. Then, achingly slow, he pulls his finger back, never stopping until Ai feels him reach the joint near the tip of his finger. The soft squirting noise of the conditioner whispers in Ai's ears, and the coolness that spreads around his hole is a welcome relief from the sensitivity triggered by Masato’s finger. The added slickness eases the drag of Masato’s finger, helping him loosen even more. Slowly, Masato slips his finger in again, and the pressure is no less pleasurable than the first time. Ai spreads his knees apart a little more, trying to make it easier for Masato to sink deeper into his hole, and shivers again when Masato flexes his finger. He withdraws, only to press two fingers against Ai’s hole, seeking silent permission to continue. In response, Ai leans into Masato’s fingers. 

            “Mikaze-senpai…!” 

            “Feels good,” Ai murmurs. “You don’t have to be careful with me, you know. You can do what you like – don’t hold yourself back.” 

            “That…is a dangerous invitation, Mikaze-senpai,” Masato murmurs back, pushing two fingertips into Ai's entrance. “I’m nearly…my restraint is at its limits.” 

            “It’s true, I said I admired your self-control,” Ai nods, easing himself onto Masato’s fingers, driving them slowly deeper into himself. “But I think you will agree that in this situation the time for restraint is over.” Masato’s palm cups his ass once more as his fingers sink in as far as they can reach, and Ai feels Masato shudder. “Please...let me feel more of you.” 

            Masato’s hand on his hip slides down and forward, and his fingers fumble until they wrap themselves around Ai’s cock. If Ai had ever been in danger of short-circuiting due to sensory overload, it’s now. He can feel every sensor in his skin going into overdrive, causing endless cascades of shivers as his body works to process all the stimulation. And then Masato starts  _moving_ , pumping his cock with deliberate slowness as he scissors his fingers in Ai’s ass. With every downward thrust on his cock, Masato pushes his fingers a little deeper. When he pulls his fingers back, his hand glides up Ai’s length. It’s overwhelming, it’s sensual, it’s Masato finally taking what he wants – and it’s driving Ai out of his mind with sensations he never knew his body was capable of experiencing. 

            “Ah, Masa...Masato...” Ai’s gasping – his body must be trying to cool itself down, but all Ai can process is how badly he needs Masato to keep going. Dimly he’s aware of a new operation starting up, triggered by Masato’s incessant groping. It’s a program he hasn’t used in a very long time, but it seems appropriate, given the situation. He decides to let it run. 

            [RUN fullyfunctional.exe? THIS OPERATION CANNOT BE TERMINATED UNTIL COMPLETION] 

            [COMMAND: RUN fullyfunctional.exe] 

            [AUTHENTICATION REQUIRED: NCC-1701D] 

            “Mikaze-senpai.” With one final swipe along Ai’s cock, Masato withdraws his fingers from Ai’s ass, reaching for the conditioner once more. He’s breathing heavily, and his voice is husky with need. “I’m going to enter you. Please...is this alright? I need to know.” 

 _Ever conscientious_ , Ai allows himself a small smile. “It’s alright. Proceed.” 

            The conditioner bottle makes itself useful once more, this time slicking Masato’s cock as well as Ai’s hole. 

            “Brace yourself, senpai.” 

            Ai is not sure how to respond to that. Turns out, he doesn’t get to. 

            Every circuit in Ai's body lights up when Masato slides his cock into Ai's hole with ease, his hands gripping Ai's hips firmly to hold him in place. Ai shakes and trembles and gasps, vaguely disconcerted by how little control he has over his body’s responses to Masato’s stimulation but too overwhelmed to care. Androids do not have “instinct” – each and every action and reaction is governed by complex layers of neural pathways that inform every decision. For this reason, Ai would never describe himself as impulsive, simply because Ai does not possess the ability to act impulsive. And yet…and yet…Masato’s cock up his ass, his hands on his hips, and his quiet restrained groans drifting over his head are driving Ai as close to “impulsive” as he's going to get. His higher functions in his neural network have all but ceased operation to cope with processing sensory data, and the fullyfunctional.exe program is prioritizing physical responses to input over logical responses, bypassing his higher functions completely. 

            For the first time in his existence, Ai is a hot, lusty mess. 

            “Masato. Move.” 

            “What?” 

            “Move,” Ai pants. “Move.” 

            “You…” Masato groans, digging his fingers deeper into Ai's hips as he pulls back, and Ai moans with relief. He pushes in again, and Ai leans back into the pressure. A few more tentative thrusts, and Masato starts picking up speed. Ai is on fire, dangerously close to over-heating, but the fullyfunctional.exe program has taken over his body’s responses and all he can do is rock his body to meet Masato’s thrusts. He pants, and the little needy noises that slip out have nothing to do with glitching vocal processors. He grinds his head into his hands resting on the tile floor as Masato pounds into him, his balls slapping mercilessly against Ai's. A remnant of Masato's restraint remains in that he hardly makes a sound except for the smallest of grunts that occasionally slip out – but the iron grip on his hips and the relentless rhythm thrusting into his ass tells Ai all he needs to know. 

            “Senpai…I'm getting close…so close…” 

            [TRIGGER CASCADE FUNCTION > fullyfunctional.exe PHASE FINAL] 

            Ai moves a hand toward his own cock, grasping it and pumping furiously. “Me…too…Masato, me too.” 

            Masato’s rhythm stutters, then grinds to a halt as he comes, shaking, bending over Ai as a reluctant moan finally makes itself known. The moan is the final trigger – Ai grinds out a moan of his own as he comes, drenching the tile floor with enough synthetic come for two androids. His chest is heaving, his breathing is erratic, and his sensory perceptors are fried. He can see the edges of his vision blurring – a sure sign he's close to powering off. 

            “Mikaze-senpai?” 

            With great effort Ai refocuses his eyes and looks over his shoulder. Masato looks positively wrecked, sweating and shaking from exertion. His hair is a mess, and his face and neck are flushed. He rubs small circles over Ai's hips soothingly, as if to apologize to his hips for gripping them so tightly. 

            “I’m going to pull out now. Please don’t pass out.” Masato eases out of Ai's ass, wincing slightly – it seems as though the conditioner had not been nearly enough to completely negate the friction. Ai's sensory perceptors spark briefly, pulling him away from the brink of shutting down for now, but Ai recognises the warning signs well enough to know he can't linger. Slowly, he sits back onto his heels, feeling Masato’s come drain out of him.  _Ah…I'm going to have to clean that out…_ _but I don’t think I have enough power to do_ _that right now…_  

            “Mikaze-senpai, I'm sorry. I let my instincts get the better of me. I'm afraid I lost control of myself.” Ai hears a wet scuffle and twists around to see Masato kneeling in a seiza position with his head on his hands, his nose almost grazing the tile floor. 

            Ai blinks, confused.  _Why would Masato_ _feel guilty for receiving what he asked for? Aren’t most people happy under those circumstances?_  “Did you get what you wanted, Masato?” 

            “I…” Masato lifts his head a little, and Ai can clearly see that Masato’s struggling to find an adequate answer. 

            “If you are satisfied with what you have received, then so am I. You wanted me to see all of you – while I am sure I have yet to see all sides of your personality, I did get to see a very personal part of yourself. That has value, and I believe I understand you better now as a person.” With great effort Ai gets to his feet. “Please continue being yourself. I look forward to seeing what you will do with your future, wherever that will take you.” 

            Ai leaves Masato kneeling on the floor. Logically he knows that it’s insensitive and cold, but with each passing second the danger of shutting down grows more imminent. He can’t spare another second. Without even drying himself off, he wraps his towel around his waist and stumbles off to his room, hoping for once that it will be quiet. He's going to need time to process this new side of Masato – and himself. 

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done... *quietly expires* I don't like how this chapter ended - it's too abrupt - but Ai ran out of battery before I could come up with something better. Also, if you squint you'll find a Star Trek reference in there...
> 
> I'm not sure if my take on Ai is alright - writing from an android's perspective is really difficult, plus I'm pretty sure Ai is touch-deprived. Hopefully my next attempt will be better. Because yes, there will be at least one more chapter at some point featuring Ai. Any guesses on who his next partner will be? =P
> 
> Also, I think Masato's deeply passionate side would make him amazing at sex, but his lifelong battle with always holding back when it comes to what he wants for himself would also make him extremely cautious and doubt himself. It was interesting to pair him with a character that is incapable of passion - but also incapable of emotionally-biased judgement. 
> 
> Real life is bearing down on me with a vengeance, so the next chapter won't be posted until January. Have patience! Snails are a little on the slow side, after all. =P


	6. Natsuki X Otoya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accident in the communal kitchen requires Natsuki and Otoya to take an impromptu shower before being accepted back into polite company.

            “All I’m saying is that a smile every once in a while would do wonders for your gravure shots, RanRan,” Reiji insists. “Just a little one – right there - ” he pokes Ranmaru’s cheek, earning him an irritated _tch_ and a slap on his hand.

            “Shut up, Reiji. My face is fine the way it is without you poking at it,” Ranmaru grumps.

            They’re walking down the hall to their rooms after a long photoshoot – though Reiji’s happy-puppy bouncing around Ranmaru could hardly be called walking – when a loud explosion reverberates down the hall, coming from only a few feet away. Seconds later, the door to the communal kitchen bursts open and thick, black smoke fills the hall. Ranmaru slaps a hand over his nose and mouth to ward off the awful smell, then tries to pry Reiji off of him where he’s clinging to Ranmaru’s waist and burying his face into his shoulder.

            “Knock it off, Reiji!”

            “But RanRan, it stinks!” Reiji whines.

            Then two human-shaped figures tumble out of the room, choking and coughing and covered in…something. It’s brown and sticky with misshapen green and yellowish lumps in it, and the smell alone is so bad it's making Reiji's eyes water. The two are panting and gasping for fresh air, and the shorter of the two bends over, resting his hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. The taller one rests a hand on the other's back and rubs gently in small circles, inadvertently smearing the brown goop into the other’s shirt. They’re so plastered with the stuff it’s hard to tell at first glance who these poor, unfortunate souls are, but a familiar blonde cowlick and a pair of safety goggles on the taller of the two people tells Reiji all he needs to know about the situation.

            “Nattsun?”

            The taller person removes his goggles, grinning and waving. “Rei-chan-senpai! Hi!”

            Ranmaru's eyes narrow at the second, decidedly less energetic person, still bent over. The brown sticky mess is thick and it’s hard to see facial features, but the shock of red hair valiantly resisting the power of Natsuki's goop is a dead giveaway.

            “Oi, Otoya.”

            Otoya lifts his head a little and grins sheepishly. “Heh, heh…Hey, Ranmaru-senpai.”

            “What the hell is going on here?” Ranmaru growls. “Wait, don't tell me…”

            “I’m teaching Otoya-kun how to make brownies!” Natsuki beams. “We even put spinach in them to make them healthier.”

            “There’s some other stuff in there too,” Otoya adds, straightening up and listing off ingredients on his fingers. “Tabasco sauce, anchovy paste, shiokara, kimchi…I didn’t know there were so many possibilities!” He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Though we probably should have cut the mangoes first instead of putting them in the blender whole…I forgot how big the pits are.”

            “Oh my God…” Ranmaru mumbles to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ai is going to have a fit.”

            “Oh, Ai-chan's filming in Okinawa and won't be back for at least three more days!” Natsuki smiles, oblivious to Ranmaru's tone. “That means we have at least three more days to make lots of treats for everyone. Right, Otoya-kun?”

            “Yep!”

            “Oh no, you don’t!” Reiji protests, sounding slightly nasally because he's holding his nose. “You need to clean this mess and yourselves up right away.”

            Otoya scratches the back of his head and chuckles. “Yeah, I guess we made a bit of a mess, didn’t we? But it’s not that bad…”

            “Oh my God, that smell – Natsuki, have you been baking again?” Syo's voice echoes down the hall, and the four of them turn to see the rest of STARISH and Cecil standing at the end of the hall.

            “Is this a type of Japanese food I haven’t tried yet?” Cecil asks, covering his face and squinting. “It smells worse than the natto Ren tricked me into eating once.”

            “Seriously?” Masato shakes his head. “Jinguji, really now…”

            “What?” Ren shrugs with a smirk. “It was funny.”

            As both Masato and Cecil give Ren the stink-eye, Tokiya pinches the bridge of his nose and mumbles irritably to Syo, “We will be smelling this in the hallway for days – I don’t even want to imagine how this smell will linger on our respective roommates.” Syo nods in agreement.

            “Enough!” Ranmaru bellows. “You two…” he glares at Natsuki and Otoya. “Clean this shit up now, and don't show your faces until you’ve showered and dealt with your laundry. Got that?”

            Both have the presence of mind to look properly chastised before scampering back into the kitchen. Otoya giggles out something about using the blender in the shower as he moves past Natsuki, punching him lightly in the shoulder, but everyone, including Otoya, misses the flash of some entirely other emotion in Natsuki’s eyes when Otoya moves past him.

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            With some encouragement from Otoya, Natsuki decides to shower with his glasses on. For some reason, everyone seems to like how he looks with glasses, and if he’s honest, there are certain perks to leaving them on – like having a crystal-clear view of Otoya’s strong shoulders and well-shaped torso, even with the water droplets clinging to his lenses. Combined with Otoya's energy and enthusiasm for life, Natsuki can’t help feeling drawn to him like a moth to a flame – or more like, for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint, Otoya’s bright sunny nature seems to light up every dark corner of Natsuki's soul. Their easy friendship has a totally different feeling than what he has with Syo, whom he adores with the intention of cherishing and protecting forever. It’s different than the quiet companionship he shares with Tokiya, or the feeling of being safe with Ren despite that one weird time in the shower last year (the details of which remain stubbornly hazy), and with Cecil…well, sometimes he wants to give him catnip just to see if he’ll react. With Otoya, there’s a warmth and a passion there that he can’t help seeking out. And when they sing together…pure magic, even when Masato relentlessly picks out all their mistakes. Warmth spreads through his chest just thinking about it. He smiles as Otoya ruffles his hair under the water like a little kid. _So cute…_

            “Otoya-kun, you missed a spot. Behind your ear.”

            “What? Really? Where?” Otoya runs his fingers through his hair in all directions, making it stand on end and somehow managing to miss the one spot Natsuki had pointed out.

            “Here, let me help,” Natsuki offers. He walks over to Otoya's shower and runs his fingers through Otoya's hair behind his ear. _It's so soft…like a puppy…_

            “Hey, that tickles!” Otoya half screeches, half giggles as he bats Natsuki's hand away.

 _He doesn’t usually mind hugs…I wonder if he'll let me touch him more?_ Natsuki thinks, heart pounding in his chest at the possibility – though from anticipation or nervousness, he can’t tell. “Are you sure you haven’t missed anywhere else?” he asks out loud.

            “Pretty sure…hey, what are you…?”

            Natsuki runs his fingers through Otoya's hair again, then trails them down his neck and over his shoulders. “Just checking…Oh, here's a spot!” He jabs Otoya's ribs, giggling when Otoya shrieks in surprise and takes a swing at him.

            “Alright then – two can play at this!” Otoya's eyes are shining with playfulness and mischief, and Natsuki’s heart skips a beat.

            “Can’t get clean without soap!” he laughs, scooping up his bottle of body wash and squeezing a generous blob into his palm. Otoya catches on and grabs his own shower gel, but before he can lather his hands up properly, Natsuki grabs his waist and slides his hands up to his armpits.

            “No fair!” Otoya protests, but he's laughing hysterically as he tries to wiggle free, crushing Natsuki’s fingers digging into his armpits. Natsuki's not prepared when Otoya twists around and bends over to jab at the back of his knees, and he crumples to the floor in a heap, taking Otoya with him. They wrestle for a bit, rolling around on the wet floor and laughing like deranged idiots – the soap makes getting a grip on each other hilariously difficult – until suddenly Otoya yelps and starts rubbing at his face with the back of his hands.

            “Otoya-kun, what's wrong? Did I poke your eye?” Natsuki’s heart lurches in his chest. He hadn’t meant to hurt him, but it’s too easy to forget his own strength when he's in a playful mood. He leans closer to Otoya to take a better look. _Please let him be ok…_

            “Oh, no, it’s fine,” Otoya waves him off, smiling as tears stream down his face. “I just got soap in my eyes, that's all. Just give me a sec.”

            “Are you sure?” Natsuki asks, feeling a little helpless.

            “Yep, totally fine.”

            Relief washes over Natsuki, and impulsively he wraps his arms around Otoya in a big hug.

            “N-nacchan?” Otoya queries, trying to pull away a little – clearly, he wasn’t expecting to be hugged in the middle of taking a shower.

            “Ah, sorry,” Natsuki says, not meaning it one bit. “It’s just so strange to see you cry, so I was a little worried.” He can feel Otoya squirming, but can’t seem to bring himself to let go just yet. He’s just so…squeezable! Yep, that’s the word!

_…plus, he won’t break if you let yourself loose on him…_

            Natsuki’s brow furrows in puzzlement. Where on earth had that thought come from?

            A gentle poke to his forehead startles him out of his thoughts. Otoya’s staring up at him with affectionate concern. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

            “Nothing,” Natsuki smiles, smoothing Otoya’s bangs out of his face. “Are you ok now?”

            “It still stings a little, but I’ll be fine,” Otoya smiles back, but concern still lingers in his eyes. “Are you ok? I mean, I know you’re a hugger, but…this is, umm…”

_…you want to do more than just hug him, idiot…_

            “Oh!” Natsuki gasps, willing the strange stray thought away. “Of course!” He releases Otoya and immediately regrets it. Otoya’s warmth evaporates, and his arms feel empty. It always feels like this after he lets someone go from a hug, but for some reason the emptiness seems more intense this time. As Otoya stands, Natsuki gets to his knees and lunges for him, wrapping his long arms around Otoya’s slender waist and burying his cheek into the small of his back.

            Otoya yelps, laughing. “You’re gonna make me fall over…” The laughter dies in his throat. Natsuki can feel him twist his torso to turn and look at him, but keeps his face planted into Otoya’s back. “Are you really ok, Natsuki?”

            “Mmm…” Natsuki mumbles noncommittally. Truth be told, he’s not really sure what he’s feeling – only that he’s not ready to let Otoya go.

_…go ahead, run your fingers along his abs…_

_…or better yet, move your hands a little lower…_

            Natsuki squeezes Otoya tighter. Where were these thoughts coming from? And yet…he can’t deny the appeal of them. His heart is thudding wildly in his chest as he realizes he’s on the verge of asking something of Otoya that could obliterate their easy-going relationship forever.

_…are you stupid? You’re not supposed to actually care…_

            “But I do care,” Natsuki mumbles quietly to the persistent voice in his head.

            “Nacchan?”

            Natsuki looks up into Otoya’s face. He can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and his heart clenches at the concern on his face. He takes a deep breath. “I…um…I care about you, Otoya-kun. I just wanted you to know that.”

            Otoya’s face lights up. “Is that what you were thinking about? Silly…I already knew that! And I care about you too. I couldn’t ask for a better friend.” He reaches down awkwardly from his twisted position and smooths Natsuki’s hair away from his face, making his scalp tingle. “Geez – you had me worried there for a bit!”

            Natsuki swallows. “Let me make it up to you.” He puts pressure on Otoya’s hips, gently turning his body around so he’s eye-level with Otoya’s groin. Before he can give himself the chance to change his mind, Natsuki wraps his tongue around his length and draws him into his mouth.

            A gasp, a shudder, and a death grip on his shoulders causes Natsuki to look up over the rims of his glasses. Otoya’s face is…breathtaking. His cheeks are flushed, he’s biting his lower lip, his eyes are wide. Natsuki slowly pulls back, feeling Otoya’s cock stiffen in his mouth as he drags his lips over the velvety soft skin. He tastes like soap, but Natsuki hardly notices. Swirling his tongue around the head, he sucks down again, resisting the power of his gag reflex to draw Otoya even further down his throat. The grip on his shoulders tightens, and he withdraws, reality sloshing over him like a bucket of cold water.

            “Sorry…I’m not sure what came over me. I just really wanted to.” The excuse sounds hollow, and Natsuki drops his hands from Otoya’s hips. What was he thinking? Otoya’s never shown that kind of interest in him, never encouraged him in any way to do this kind of thing with him. He looks away, rocking back on his heels to stand and move away. But as he pulls back, Otoya’s hands remain on his shoulders. Natsuki’s eyes flick up in surprise.

            “It’s ok, Nacchan. I…um…if it’s you, I don’t mind.” Otoya’s blushing hard, and his eyes are hazy with need, even as he looks away in embarrassment. The look on his face goes straight to Natsuki’s groin.

_…there you go. Go get him, tiger…_

            For once, Natsuki agrees with the voice in his head. He scoops Otoya’s cock into his mouth once more with his tongue, holding his thighs to steady him. Otoya’s fingers dig into his shoulders, and his shuddering breaths rock Natsuki to the core. He hums gently, savouring Otoya’s taste.

            “Ah…Nacchan…” Otoya moans. “It’s so good. Feels so good…do that again.”

            Natsuki hums again, longer and lower as he sucks down again, and Otoya’s knees buckle. In an instant, Natsuki’s on his feet, cradling Otoya as he regains his balance.

            “Silly,” Natsuki smiles. “Can I kiss you?”

            “Oh…” If Otoya's eyes could get any wider, Natsuki swears they would drop out of his head. “I…yeah.”

            Gently, Natsuki cups the back of Otoya’s head with one hand and draws him close with his other arm wrapped around his waist, pressing his lips against his. Otoya's mouth is warm and yielding… _accepting_. He nibbles on Otoya's lower lip, making him giggle and mumble something about how much it tickles. His fingers flex carefully in Otoya’s damp hair, and his grip around Otoya’s waist tightens. _I could hold you forever…_

            Goosebumps erupt all over his skin when Otoya returns the embrace, trailing his rough fingertips along his spine and around his shoulder blades, and he moans against Otoya's mouth. The sensations are overwhelming, wreaking havoc with his senses, drawing him into a deliciously hazy oblivion in which his whole world consists solely of Otoya.

            Then Otoya slips his tongue into Natsuki’s mouth, and Natsuki's world explodes.

            He sinks to his knees, taking Otoya with him. Somehow, they never break their kiss as Natsuki settles Otoya into his lap in the middle of the floor, showers forgotten. Otoya wraps his legs around Natsuki’s waist as he plunders Natsuki’s mouth, and Natsuki almost forgets to breathe. And when their cocks grind together…it's almost enough to make Natsuki come right then and there. Reluctantly he pulls Otoya’s face away.

            “Something wrong?” Otoya asks, and Natsuki's heart lurches at the concern in his voice.

            “No, not at all,” Natsuki smiles and runs a hand slowly along Otoya's thigh. “You…it's like you're hugging me with your whole body. It's the best thing I've ever felt. I just…um…I want to make sure you're feeling good too.”

            Otoya's smile is so bright it could rival the sun. “I’m feeling way better than good, believe me.” He kisses Natsuki’s nose with a giggle, and Natsuki melts all over again.

            “You're just too cute, you know that?” he says, stroking his cheek.

            “You know,” Otoya replies with a fake pout, “if anyone else ever said that, I'd say I'd rather be called cool or handsome or something.”

            Natsuki smiles. “You’re all those things too, but right now, you're cute.”

            He catches the blush spreading on Otoya’s cheeks again and is about to remark on it when Otoya's next words completely floor him.

            “What...what would it take for you to say that I'm s-sexy, Natsuki?”

            Heat surges to Natsuki's cock, desire ripping through him. Though he loves Otoya’s nickname for him, hearing him say his first name properly just adds fuel to his fire. And that question...so innocent, and yet so full of need. He wraps his arms around Otoya and pulls him as close as he can, shuddering as he feels Otoya's cock twitch against his. “You, Otoya, are most definitely sexy,” he whispers in Otoya’s ear, and is rewarded with a quiet moan. “Would you like me to prove how sexy I think you are?”

            Otoya nods into his shoulder, sending his heart soaring.

            Natsuki looks around for his conditioner – ah, there it is…with Otoya in his lap, it’s just a little too far to the left out of his reach. A goofy little smile plays at the corner of his mouth at the request forming at the tip of his tongue.

            “Can you reach out and grab that bottle for me?”

            Otoya lifts his head and looks where Natsuki’s pointing. It takes all Natsuki’s willpower not to laugh at the confusion on his face. “You…want to wash my hair?”

            Natsuki giggles a little, then smiles. “No, silly. Just get it? Please?” He holds onto Otoya’s waist to keep him steady as he reaches for the bottle and rewards him with a deep kiss when he brings it back. Placing a hand on the small of Otoya’s back, Natsuki carefully eases him onto his back on the wet tile floor, his legs still draped over Natsuki’s thighs.

            “Ooh, that’s cold!” Otoya protests.

            “Bear with it just for a bit,” Natsuki murmurs, sliding his hands over Otoya’s firm stomach and down his thighs. “I promise, in a moment you’ll forget the floor even exists.” Warming some conditioner in his hands, he gently massages Otoya’s thighs, helping him get used to Natsuki’s touch. Of course, with his legs spread like this, Natsuki has the perfect view of Otoya’s cock, nestled in a thatch of bright red curls just begging to be petted. Never one to hold back, he buries his face in Otoya’s balls, shivering when Otoya’s questing fingers tangle themselves in his hair. But…it’s not the most comfortable position, even with his flexibility, so he reluctantly withdraws.

            “Ah, Nacchan…”

            “Sh…Let me enjoy you.” Natsuki warms more conditioner in his palms and resumes his touching, leaving slippery finger trails everywhere he can reach, circling closer and closer to Otoya’s hole. His cock throbs with every one of Otoya’s moans, and it’s taking all his self-control to keep from going too fast or getting too forceful. But oh, that look on Otoya’s face as he twitches under Natsuki’s touch – it’s almost too much to resist.

            “Please, Natsuki…touch me more…”

            Natsuki’s heart lurches in his chest – Otoya’s need is so pure-hearted and obvious, it’s all he can do to keep the mood light-hearted and playful. The last thing he wants to do is accidentally cause him pain. “Where do you want me to touch you?” he asks, plastering a grin on his face as he pokes Otoya’s ribs. “Here?”

            “Ah ha ha! No…you know where…”

            “Umm…here?” A poke to the back of his knees.

            “Ugh…don’t make me say it…” Otoya somehow moans and giggles at the same time, which Natsuki finds adorable. _Alright, enough teasing for now_ , he thinks. _Let’s see if he’s really ready for me_.

            Slowly, Natsuki runs his hands along Otoya’s inner thighs, gently pressing his thumbs into the pressure points in his groin. “Here?”

            “Ah!” Otoya jolts. “Definitely…uh…closer.”

            Natsuki lathers his hands in conditioner once more and takes a deep breath. _It’s now or never…please don’t hate me, Otoya-kun…_ His hand shakes ever so slightly as he presses one finger over Otoya’s asshole and asks, “Here?”

            Otoya arches his back and moans, hands clenching and unclenching against the wet tile floor as he thrusts his hips against Natsuki’s finger. “More…yes, there…please…”

            Natsuki rubs small circles over Otoya’s hole, watching it twitch and clench under his touch. Otoya’s hips are moving all on their own, and the moans, grunts, and sighs he's making with every touch he receives is music to Natsuki’s ears. He extends a thumb and presses carefully against Otoya’s sac, right underneath his balls, rubbing ever so slightly as he holds his finger against his hole, and is rewarded when Otoya’s moans take on an entirely different pitch. Before Natsuki realizes it, his finger slips in all on its own as Otoya bucks against his hand, and Otoya practically screams.

            Natsuki freezes. “Otoya-kun, I'm sorry! I was trying to go slow…”

            “N-no… 's good,” Otoya stutters out, gasping. “Feels good. Dun stop…”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Please…”

            Relief washes over Natsuki, followed by a heady rush of desire for the redhead writhing under his hand.

_...told you he wouldn’t break…_

            Natsuki wants to tell the voice in his head to just shut up and go away, but Otoya's needy whimpering is distraction enough. Keeping his thumb under Otoya’s balls, Natsuki wiggles the tip of his finger without pushing, and Otoya's hole relaxes again, drawing him in. Otoya takes a deep shuddery breath, and Natsuki rubs soothing circles on his stomach…more for his own sake than for Otoya’s. His cock is straining with need, and he can feel precome building at the tip. Soon, Natsuki’s palm presses against Otoya’s ass as his finger slides in as far as it will go. He wiggles it, curling the tip ever so slightly.

            “Ah, Nacchan…!”

            “Are you okay?”

            “That’s amazing!” Otoya gasps. “Do that again!”

            Natsuki smiles and curls his finger again, feeling for that special spot. Unexpectedly, this time his aim is a little too…er, spot-on…

            “Oh, God…coming!”

            Natsuki’s eyes widen in shock, and he can feel his jaw drop. His adorable Otoya is laying there with a finger still up his ass and a streak of come up to the middle of his chest, blushing furiously as he tries to cover his face. Sexy…cute…hot as fuck…there are no words to describe the sight in front of him.

            “Nacchan…sorry,” Otoya hiccups – is he crying? “Couldn’t hold back…”

            Natsuki eases his finger out of Otoya’s hole, then stretches himself out on the floor next to Otoya, holding him close. “No, please, don’t apologize – you were wonderful,” he murmurs, meaning every word. “Nothing makes me happier than to see you enjoy yourself, especially knowing it was me who got you there.”

            “Really?”

            “Really.”

            They lay there quiet for a moment as Otoya sniffles, and Natsuki loses himself in thought. His cock is aching, and he tries to think of a way to take care of himself without making Otoya feel worse. That persistent voice in his head is oddly quiet, though Natsuki can’t say he minds. Part of him is shocked that Otoya feels so bad – like he feels guilty for feeling pleasure without him. Natsuki can’t remember someone reacting that way before, under any circumstance. He gives, and others take. They ask for more, and he gives again. And again…and again…

_…not down that rabbit hole, Natsuki…_

            Natsuki blinks. _What was I just thinking about? Ah well, no matter…_ he closes his eyes and runs his fingers through Otoya’s hair…and jolts when Otoya’s fingers brush against his cock, still achingly hard.

            “You haven’t come yet, right?” Otoya asks quietly.

            “Ah, well, that is…” Natsuki’s too flustered from Otoya’s touch to form a coherent sentence, and he can feel the blush building on his face.

            “Can we…um…continue where we left off? I mean, if you still want to, of course…”

            “You still want to?” Natsuki leans back to look at Otoya’s face.

            “Yeah…I do.” Otoya nods slowly, and the little smile playing at the corners of his mouth makes Natsuki’s heart skip. “Can we…um…can we go all the way?”

            “Only if you want to,” Natsuki says quickly, propping himself up on his elbow. “You can ask me to stop at any point – I mean that, ok?”

            “Got it.”

            Natsuki resituates himself between Otoya’s legs again, but now he’s nervous. He had not been expecting to be able to continue and had more or less resigned to taking care of himself later. But now Otoya wants him – or more like, Otoya’s giving himself to him, making sure Natsuki’s own needs are met. And the best part is that he’s happy about it – Natsuki can see it in his eyes. He’s not being tolerated – he’s being invited. A whole new wave of appreciation and affection for Otoya washes over him, and if he doesn’t start doing something soon he’s sure he’s going to cry. Grabbing the bottle of conditioner, he coats his fingers and slathers a generous amount over Otoya’s hole, making him yelp and giggle.

            “A little warning next time? That stuff’s cold!”

            Natsuki cracks a smile. The tension’s gone, and all it had taken was Otoya’s laugh. “Sure, Otoya-kun. I’ll try and remember. Ready?” Otoya nods, and Natsuki presses one finger against his hole. It slips in, and Otoya sighs contentedly. After a few thrusts, Natsuki tests a second finger, then a third. Otoya’s so ready for him, so open and soft…and those needy moans are back, driving Natsuki wild.

            “Otoya…I’m going in, ok?”

            “Please…Nacchan…”

            Natsuki withdraws his hand, gets to his knees, and lines his cock up with Otoya’s hole. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushes himself in, letting Otoya’s hole adjust to his size.

            “Oh…you’re so…give me a sec,” Otoya gasps.

            “Are you ok? Does it hurt?”

            “No way…hmm…can there even be a limit to how good you’re making me feel right now?” Otoya shoots him a lusty grin, and Natsuki can’t help laughing.

            “Considering you can’t even speak proper Japanese right now, I’m guessing you’re approaching that limit.” Natsuki leans over Otoya, resting on his hands like he’s doing a push-up as he gently presses himself further into Otoya’s hole, and shivers when Otoya reaches up and drags his fingers through his hair. He rocks back and forth, testing Otoya’s reactions to his movements, building momentum until before he knows it, he’s thrusting into Otoya full force, holding Otoya for dear life as Otoya clings to him, whimpering his name. And then, Otoya wraps his legs around Natsuki’s hips.

            “Come for me, Natsuki.”

            Natsuki explodes with a cry, shaking as he empties himself into Otoya. Pulse after pulse, he comes until there’s nothing left. And even when he’s given all he’s got, his cock twitches as though there were somehow more left to give. Exhausted, he collapses gently on top of Otoya, panting heavily, barely mindful of Otoya stroking his back and shoulders. Eventually, he feels himself slip out of Otoya’s hole, and he rolls off of Otoya onto his back on the floor, eyes closed, relishing the sensations coursing through his body.

            “Hey, Nacchan?”

            “Hmm?” Natsuki cracks one eye open to look over at Otoya. _Still so cute…_

            “You don’t have to wait until the next time we bake together to…uh…do this again. I really…I mean, you were…”

            Natsuki lifts one leaden arm and drapes it over Otoya, pulling him close. With their crazy schedules there was no point in making promises to each other that they may not be able to keep, but it was really nice to know that Otoya was thinking about the future.

            And, if Natsuki’s honest, “next time” has a really nice ring to it.

 

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Sorry for the long absence. Real life has a nasty habit of getting in the way, plus I got hit with a nasty case of writer's block. Hopefully things will start picking up speed again. Thanks for sticking with me, everyone!
> 
> I found this pairing really hard to write. My natural inclination was to write from Otoya's perspective, but I realized that I hadn't written anything from Natsuki's perspective so I gave it a go...sorry if I didn't get it right. Natsuki is not a character I relate to at all - even with his serious deep-seated issues, he's just too dang fluffy. Also, how did you like Satsuki running interference on Natsuki's thoughts? I wanted Natsuki's lusty thoughts to be all his own, but it doesn't hurt to have a little encouragement. ;-)
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter will be up in June!


	7. Cecil X Reiji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reiji really should be acting like a responsible adult, but he can’t help teasing that innocent ray of sunshine named Cecil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POOL PARTY!!!!

            Cecil leans back against the couch and closes his eyes, letting the script he’s studying slip from his fingers onto his lap. He sighs. _Why does Japanese have to be so complicated anyway?_ _Ugh…must resist the urge to nap, or Camus will just give me more to do._ He slowly pries open his eyes.

            A fuzzy fish on a string stares back at him.

            Cecil screams and smacks the fish away with all his might, then scrambles to the far end of the couch, gasping from fright as his script falls to the floor. As the adrenaline-induced fog clears from his brain, he finally notices the hysterical laughter emanating from behind the couch. He kneels on the couch and looks over the back cautiously.

            “Reiji-senpai! Just…why?”

            Reiji’s rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach and gasping for air through his giggles. The fuzzy fish on a string, attached to a long plastic wand, lies abandoned on the floor beside him.

            Cecil rolls his eyes with a sigh and turns around so he’s sitting on the couch the right way around. He’s honestly not sure if he should just laugh it off or pout. _I probably did something to deserve that…though since it’s Reiji-senpai, there could just as easily be no reason at all. I’m sure he’ll tell me what he wants eventually, but...why can’t he just treat me normally instead of always playing jokes on me?_ He jumps when Reiji suddenly plunks himself down next him, still giggling and wiping tears from his eyes as he clutches the wand.

            “God, Cesshi, you’re the best!” Reiji laughs. “Your reaction – that was a cat toy! Most cats wouldn’t react with as much gusto!”

            Cecil cringes a little inside. _Oh, the cat thing again…_

            Ever since he became human again and joined Shining Agency’s Master Class, nearly everyone has tried seeing if he’s got some leftover feline traits. On the one side, the extra attention isn’t so bad…but the pranks have started to get a little out of hand. Cat toys, cat treats – even Masato, who’s about as straight-laced as they come, once gave him some funny tasting Japanese sweets he made, and it wasn’t until he spent the whole day being stared at that he finally found out from Otoya that Masato had laced them with catnip. He sighs again as he watches Reiji try to catch his breath between giggles.

            “Reiji-senpai, just how old are you again?”

            “Never mind that,” Reiji grins. “It’s _because_ I’m as old as I am that I can do whatever I want to all you adorable kouhai.” He waves the wand end of the toy in Cecil’s face, and Cecil leans away out of its reach.  “As long as I call whatever I’m doing a teachable moment, it’s all good. Ha ha! All in the name of education!”

            “Is…is that so?” Cecil asks doubtfully.

            Reiji nods enthusiastically.

            “Huh…” Cecil ponders this for a moment. _But_ _…I don't get it. What exactly was I supposed to learn?_

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            Cecil slips out of the room he shares with Camus and makes his way down the dimly lit hall. It’s just after midnight, and though he’d rather be sleeping, he’s not taking any chances with sharing the shower room with anyone from STARISH or QUARTET NIGHT. That one time with Natsuki was terrifying enough, and even though everything turned out alright in the end…better than alright even…Cecil is reluctant to relive the encounter. While Natsuki has never brought up their…whatever that was…or embarrassed him with revealing his weird shower habit, it has taken ages for Cecil to feel comfortable around him again. And with the slough of pranks coming his way lately, especially from Reiji, Cecil can’t help but be a little wary of his Master Class comrades.

            He makes his way into the shower room and places his shorts and t-shirt in a basket on the shelf. _Come to think of it_ , he muses, _I haven’t really gotten close to anyone, have I? I’m part of the Master Class, but only because I want to sing Haruka’s music…and she only wants to write for STARISH, which I have no desire to join. I’ll convince her one day soon that I’m the right person for her music, with the help of the Muses, of course, but…it’s still a little lonely, doing everything by myself._

            He hangs his towel on a hook, then turns and faces the row of showers resolutely, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “Why didn’t they make these things with walls or curtains or something?” he mumbles for the umpteenth time since he first started living at Shining Agency’s dormitory. He locks his eyes on a shower in the corner, eyeing it like it’s a sleeping wild beast ready to eat him alive at the slightest provocation. Walking over, he reaches up with one finger and pushes the shower head as far over as it will go, angling it away from himself. Turning on the faucets, he takes his time adjusting the temperature, dipping one or two fingers under the running water. When there’s absolutely no more he can do to tweak the temperature to perfection, he realigns the shower head, squeezes his eyes shut, takes another deep breath, and starts inching under the spray.

            Rationally, Cecil knows that it’s just water, and there’s not enough of it to drown him or anything. The only damage it could do – if it could even be called that – would only happen if the water was too hot or too cold. There’s just something so…unsettling…about being completely immersed in water that sets Cecil’s nerves on edge.

            He’s fully under the water now, with the spray plastering his hair to his scalp and misting off his shoulders. The warmth of the water goes a long way to help him feel more comfortable, but…water is water, after all.

_Just a little longer…then I’ll open my eyes…_

_Ugh, hard to breathe…_

_Endure it…_

_Endure it…_

_Endure it…_

            “Cesshi.”

            Cecil’s eyes snap open, and he bolts out from under the water, gluing his back to the wall. His heart feels like if it pounds any faster, it will explode. He gasps for air, fighting against the vertigo threatening to unbalance him. One hand slips off the slick tile wall, and his knees buckle.

            The time it takes for him to fall feels like centuries…until one finely sculpted arm suddenly appears around his waist, catching him and pulling him close against a firm, warm body.

            “There now, I’ve got you, Cesshi. Breathe…that’s it. Just breathe.”

            The vice-like feeling crushing Cecil’s chest begins to lift, and he takes deep, shuddery breaths. Gentle fingers card through his wet hair, and that warm, bright voice murmurs reassurances in his ear.

_That voice…it sounds like…_ Cecil lifts his head to get a good look at his saviour, and his eyes widen in surprise. “Reiji-senpai?”

            A warm chuckle envelopes him like a cozy blanket. “In the flesh! Feeling better?”

            “Mmm,” Cecil nods. As the adrenaline rush subsides, he becomes acutely aware of how soft Reiji’s skin feels against his. His grip around Cecil’s waist is firm enough to keep him stable, yet incredibly gentle. Cecil’s hip is pressed right against Reiji’s pelvis and torso, like he’s being cradled with Reiji’s entire body. Cecil can feel the heat building in his face, and he straightens, carefully wriggling out of Reiji’s embrace.

            “Sorry about that,” Reiji says, running his fingers one last time through Cecil’s hair to smooth his bangs out of his face.

            His nerves still on edge, Cecil bats his hand away without thinking. The crest-fallen look on Reiji’s face lasts only for a second, but Cecil catches it right away. _Oh no, I’ve hurt his feelings!_ He panics.

            “Ah…sorry,” he stammers out. “I’m still…uh…a little…”

            “Nope, don’t apologise.” Reiji shakes his head and takes a few steps back. “I should have expected that. You’re always a bit jumpy after you’ve been startled.”

            “I guess you would know…” the comment slips out before Cecil realizes it, and he slaps a hand over his mouth, immediately guilty. Reiji had just saved him from cracking his head open on the tile floor, after all. The heat is back in his cheeks, and he looks down at the floor.

            “Did you say something?”

            “Ah…no.” _There’s no way he didn’t hear that!_ He hears Reiji’s wet footsteps recede, and he slowly lifts his gaze from the floor, hoping beyond hope that he won’t have to make eye contact. As he lifts his head, a large pink blob of soft plastic on the floor catches his eye, just in time to see Reiji tie his hair back, bend over, and pick it up. _Oh…he must have dropped it to catch me…ah, I forgot to say thank-you! But – the moment has passed already. Saying it now would be awkward._ The view of Reiji’s ass as he bends over is another distraction, and Cecil gets the sudden urge to squeeze him…then banishes the thought immediately. _No chance of that happening, even if he was into that sort of thing…he would just use that as an excuse to tease me again._

            Cecil watches as Reiji fumbles with the blob, turning it this way and that, until he suddenly takes a big breath, buries his face in it, and exhales.

            Cecil can’t take it anymore – his curiosity gets the better of him. “Reiji-senpai, what are you doing?”

            Reiji looks up, and the surprise on his face couldn’t be more obvious than if someone had written “surprised” with a big bold marker on his forehead. “Why Cesshi, don’t tell me you’ve never seen a pool floaty before?”

            “Pool...floaty?” Separately, Cecil’s pretty sure he knows what those two words mean, but put together, he has no idea what Reiji’s talking about. Supposedly, he’s referencing the pink plastic blob, but since its shape is hard to determine, it’s not very useful for providing any clues.

            “My, my, my! We can’t let this teachable moment go to waste!” Reiji strides over to Cecil and grabs his hand, dragging him and the pink plastic over to the next room that holds the dorm’s lavish soaker tub, ignoring Cecil’s sputtering protests. Cecil had peeked in there once and though he liked the whimsical arrangement of plastic rocks and fake palm trees, he had immediately decided it was not for him…yet here he was, heading right for it against his will. He doesn’t dare struggle – the floor’s too slippery for that. He only hopes Reiji has the decency to not pick him up and chuck him into the bath.

            Once inside, Reiji lets go of his hand and clears his throat dramatically. “This, kouhai-chan” – he holds up the plastic – “is a pool floaty. Once it’s filled with air, you put it in the water and sit or lay on it, depending on its shape. This one looks like a futon, so it’s for laying on. You can also get round ones that look like doughnuts, which are great for sitting in. Come to think of it,” he muses, “I’ve got one of those that actually [looks like a doughnut](https://www.vat19.com/item/strawberry-donut-pool-float)…with sprinkles and frosting and a bite taken out of it. RanRan got it for me as a joke since I like doughnuts so much.” He places a thoughtful finger on his chin. “Gotta dig that out sometime…”

            Cecil’s not sure he’s followed everything Reiji said, but he’s pretty sure he’s got the idea…and decides he wants no part of it. And yet – his curiosity gets the better of him again. “Why did you bring that to the shower room, Reiji-senpai? There’s no pool in here.”

            Reiji sweeps his arm out dramatically in the direction of the soaker tub. “You’re lookin’ at it! It’s a bit small, but it’s fine when there’s no one else in it. Why else do you think I’m here in the middle of the night instead of in bed getting my beauty sleep?” He grins and winks, then goes to work blowing up the floaty.

            Despite his wariness, Cecil can’t help cracking a smile. Reiji’s crazy, but in the best way possible. From all appearances, he’s got that drive and energy for living that draws people in, like he’s got more than enough of himself to share with everyone – though Cecil can’t help wondering if there’s more to Reiji’s character than meets the eye. He’d love to find out one day.

            There’s just that one small issue of pranks…

            “Well, thanks for the tutorial,” Cecil says, backing away, “and also for saving me back there. I need to finish showering, so…um…have fun.”

            Reiji looks up from the floaty, now almost fully inflated, and Cecil can see his disappointment even as he tries to catch his breath from blowing. “Aww, Cesshi, you’re not gonna stick around? You don’t know what you’re missing!”

            Cecil looks down at his feet. He’s pretty sure the Muses have enhanced his emotional intuition, which is great for creating music, but can also be inconvenient at times – like right now. The guilt gnawing at his conscience over disappointing Reiji, despite all the stunts he’s pulled, is almost too much to resist. Cecil grasps at the first thing that comes to mind.

            “How do I know you’re not going to scare me or trick me again? You’ve been pranking me almost constantly, every spare minute you have. Aren’t you getting tired of it?”

            “That’s because…” Reiji trails off, then shakes his head. “No, never mind.” He drops the inflated floaty and walks slowly over to Cecil. “What can I say to get you to join me?” He lays a gentle hand on Cecil’s shoulder, sending tingles down his spine at the unexpected contact. Up close, Cecil is suddenly reminded of just how short Reiji really is – his larger-than-life personality tends to make people forget that particular detail. Water droplets glisten in his chocolaty hair, and his eyes…how anyone can manage such a perfect blend of earnestness and mischievousness in one glance is beyond Cecil’s understanding.

             “N-n-nothing,” Cecil finally stammers out, trying to focus on anything but Reiji’s face. He knows instinctively that all it would take is one tiny glance, and he would be done for. He fixes his eyes firmly on the palm tree behind Reiji, keeping his eyes above the top of Reiji’s head. Steeling himself, he adds, “There isn’t anything you can say to me to get me in that tub.”

            The finality of Cecil’s tone hangs like an oppressive weight between them, making the bath’s almost inaudible filtration system sound like a freight train to Cecil’s heightened senses. He wants to back away and put this whole ordeal behind him, but Reiji’s hand is still resting on his shoulder, not moving or gripping him, just…there. Briefly, Cecil wonders how Reiji’s hand would feel on other parts of his body, and he shivers a little. _Hurry, Reiji-senpai…just accept it and let go. I can’t take much more of this…of you._

            The tiniest of sighs pierces through Cecil’s mental agony, and without thinking he glances down…right into the depths of Reiji’s storm-grey eyes.

            “Please.”

            It’s too much - Cecil’s resolve crumbles. Shrugging out of Reiji’s grasp, he rubs at his eyes and takes a deep breath. _Why did he have to go and say “please”?_

            “Is me joining you on that float-thingy really that important to you?”

            Reiji’s face lights up. “Is that a yes? Are you saying yes?” He prances around, grabbing the pool floaty and positioning it between two plastic rocks. “Get on, Cesshi! I promise you won’t regret this!”

_I am so going to regret this..._ Cecil thinks to himself as he gingerly lowers himself onto the floaty into a cross-legged position, balancing carefully as it wobbles. A sudden splash makes him jump, and Reiji’s head pops up in front of him, sopping wet.

            “Ah, that’s not going to work! You need to lie on your stomach or your back, otherwise you’ll tip.” Reiji bounces up and down in the water, waiting for Cecil to readjust himself so he’s laying on his stomach. “Ready? Here we go!”

            Cecil squeezes his eyes shut and grips both sides of the floaty. His heart feels like it’s going to explode, and he’s finding it hard to breathe. Then two gentle hands cup his face, and Reiji’s gentle voice whispers in his ear.

            “Look at me.”

            Cecil cracks one eye open, and focuses on the warm intensity of Reiji’s gaze. Ah, the mischievousness is still there, and the playfulness, and…something else. Stirrings of pain and remorse tickle Cecil’s psyche as he gazes into those eyes, eyes that usually flick away from others or are closed in laughter, eyes that quietly, _deliberately_ direct one’s focus away from themselves. _It’s almost…like I’m being allowed to see him – the real him. If only I could understand what he’s thinking…_

            So lost is he in Reiji’s eyes that Cecil doesn’t notice when Reiji pulls on the floaty, sliding him gently into the water until a quiet splash startles him, causing him to break eye contact. That tight feeling in his chest is back, made all the more unbearable by the rising and falling sensation of the water lapping around him. His knuckles are turning white as he grips the sides of the floaty, and he can’t seem to get enough air in his lungs.

            “Sc-c-cared…senpai, l-let me off.”

            “Shh, I’ve got you. You’re ok.” Reiji’s fingers wind themselves through Cecil’s hair, and suddenly Cecil can breathe again. Slowly he looks up at Reiji, but the glimpse he had into Reiji’s soul is gone.

            Reiji keeps one hand in Cecil’s hair, stroking gently as he pulls the floaty in a slow circle around the bath. Once…twice…by the third time Cecil is no longer gripping the floaty with all his might, and by the fourth time around he’s breathing almost completely normally.

            “Hey, Cesshi…”

            “Mmm?”

            “The jokes…the pranks…why I did them…”

            “It’s ok, Reiji-senpai. It’s just who you are. I just need to get used to them, that’s all.”

            Reiji stops pulling the floaty and shakes his head. “No, I need to clear this up. You don’t trust me – it hurts, you know? But the worst is that I made you feel that way. I never wanted you to be scared of me or…not like me.” He runs his fingers along Cecil’s jaw, making him shiver unexpectedly. “I’m sorry.”

            Cecil takes a moment to process this. _If this is how he feels, why did he tease me in the first place? Surely there were better ways of being around me that he could have tried._ “Umm…I don’t dislike you, senpai. That never occurred to me…I just don’t understand you sometimes.” He unexpectedly cracks a yawn, and Reiji chuckles.

            “I didn’t mean to wear you out, but I’m glad you don’t hate me.” With a gentle smile, Reiji pulls the floaty back to where they started. “Hold onto that ledge while I get out so you don’t float away.”

            Cecil slides one hand carefully across the surface of the floaty, making it squeak as he carefully reaches for the edge of the bath. The cool tile under his fingertips is reassuring, _solid_ , and he breathes a sigh of relief as he listens to Reiji splash around, heaving himself out of the bath with a grunt. After a moment, Reiji grabs hold of the floaty and pulls while Cecil holds on for dear life. As he pulls, his feet slip out from underneath him, and he lands gracelessly on his ass. The look of shock and embarrassment on his face as he awkwardly rubs his tailbone is just too much, too _cute_ , and Cecil can’t help but laugh.

            “Reiji-senpai, I’m sorry,” he giggles, “are you alright? I didn’t mean to laugh…”

            Reiji manages a good-natured chuckle, though Cecil can tell he is definitely uncomfortable – his cheeks are tinged a little pink, and he’s even worse at making eye contact than usual. Nevertheless, he’s not prepared for Reiji’s response.

            “It’s ok, really…I like hearing you laugh, even if it’s at me.”

_What sort of answer is that?_ Cecil frowns as he carefully wiggles off the floaty, eager to be on firm footing. He crouches in front of Reiji, looking at him splayed out in front of him. Reiji’s resting his weight on one arm as he rubs at his tailbone, giving Cecil a fully unobstructed, rather _inviting_ view of his crotch. Cecil’s not entirely sure if it’s on purpose, but then Reiji’s eyes go wide, as if noticing Cecil staring at him for the first time. If possible, Reiji’s face turns a brighter shade of pink, and he tries to sit up properly with his legs closed.

            “Are you possibly embarrassed to be looked at, senpai? I didn’t realize…since Aganopolis is so warm, we usually don’t wear many layers – just enough to avoid sunburn.” He leans in a little closer, and Reiji turns his face away, squeezing his eyes shut.

            “Please…stop looking, Cesshi.”

            “Why? You have nothing to be embarrassed about…”

            “No, really – please stop.” He’s laughing, but there’s a weird, anxious tinge to Reiji’s voice, even as he’s trying to form a shaky smile, trying to laugh it off like nothing’s wrong.

            “Why?” Cecil mimics Reiji’s earlier actions, placing both of his hands on either side of Reiji’s face and turning it gently towards him. “What is it that you don’t want me to see?” He can feel the waves of nervousness coming off of Reiji before noticing his physical state – nervous swallowing, shallow rapid breaths, the hint of sweat building under his bangs – but his awareness does nothing to prepare him for when Reiji finally croaks out an answer.

            “How much I like you.”

            Cecil’s eyes widen as Reiji suddenly launches himself at Cecil, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in for a crushing kiss. Cecil can barely breathe – there’s too much to take in. Then, one horrible thought emerges from the mess in his mind, and he pushes Reiji away as he realizes the terrible truth.

            “This is another prank, isn’t it?” he gasps. “You’re just making fun of me now!”

            “No. Not this time.” He scoops Cecil up off the floor and tips him onto the floaty so he’s facedown on his knees with his ass in the air.

_Oh Muses, is this really happening?!_ Cecil barely registers the position he’s in before Reiji kneels behind him, nestling Cecil’s ass against his crotch and reaching down to stroke Cecil’s cock. _Do I want this? Do I really, actually want this? I just pushed him away a second ago, I could do it again…_ The memory of Reiji bending over in the shower room wiggles itself to the forefront of Cecil’s memory, and he caves, even as the pain of knowing this is just another one of Reiji’s pranks lances through his soul. _What’s wrong with me?_ _Even if it’s a joke…I want it, after all. I’m the worst..._

            A warm, wriggling wetness and a low hum rumbling against his asshole jolts him to the present moment, and he gasps. “S-senpai…ah! That’s…!”

            “How is it? Good, right?” Reiji mumbles against Cecil’s ass. “You taste delicious, by the way.”

            “No way –”

            “Yes way,” Reiji snickers, and Cecil swears Reiji just winked, though he has absolutely no way of knowing as he’s being rocked by Reiji’s probing tongue, wobbling precariously on the pink floaty. Faster, firmer…now circling the outer rim, now diving in for another deep lick. His hands eagerly grope Cecil’s ass, his fingers digging deeply into Cecil’s hips as strong, insistent thumbs spread Cecil’s cheeks wide open. Cecil feels his own cock growing harder with every lick, and he can’t help palming himself in time with Reiji’s tongue, slicking himself with his own precome.

            And, as Cecil adjusts to the physical sensations, his emotional intuition starts to catch up. Oh, he’s still convinced that Reiji’s messing with him somehow, but being in such close contact with Reiji, he’s starting to pick up on some of Reiji’s…enthusiasm? Yeah, that must be it – it can’t possibly be sincerity, since there’s no way Reiji’s actually _in_ to him…

            The floaty suddenly shifts as Reiji hoists himself up, and Cecil’s angst returns full force. _Ah, here it comes…here’s where he’s going to make fun of me for being hard or something_. A tear squeezes out of the corner of his eye, and he sniffles. He’s so turned on at Reiji’s sudden attention, yet so embarrassed all at the same time because he knows he’s fallen for Reiji’s prank hook, line, and sinker. He buries his flaming face into the squishy plastic, enveloping his vision in a sea of pink that does nothing to help him feel better – inflatable plastic makes for a terrible hiding place. _Going with the flow like that…how could I have been so stupid? No wonder I still get treated like a child…I don’t understand anything at all!_ He flops onto his side, curling into himself, swallowing the lump growing in his throat and furiously wiping away the tears that refuse to stop trickling down his cheeks.

            “Ok Cesshi, ready to…Cesshi! Oh my God, what did I…” Reiji scrambles onto the floaty, scoops Cecil up and cradles him gently, stroking his hair. It’s too much – Cecil bursts into tears.

            “J-j-just…please. Please stop. Isn’t this e-enough?” Cecil stutters out. His chest aches, and he can barely breathe through his tears. He wants to push Reiji away, to get up and walk out of this room, this dorm, this life…but his legs have no strength, and Reiji’s arms are so warm. “I can’t...with you...I want to, b-b-but I just can’t. Not this way…”

            “Cesshi, what are you – wait, did you seriously think I was just messing with you? That this really was a joke, even though I said it wasn’t?” Reiji pulls him even closer, and Cecil sobs into his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…God, I’m such an idiot…”

            Reiji rocks him and holds him patiently until Cecil feels like he can breathe again. He can feel the sincerity and regret in Reiji’s words and actions trickling into his psyche, and he’s almost ready to believe him…almost. He hiccups into Reiji’s chest and sniffles.

            Reiji sighs, but keeps his arms around Cecil. His fingers curl into his hair, stroking gently. “Honestly…I like you, I really do…but you scare me sometimes.”

            Cecil lifts his head and leans back to try to look at Reiji’s face, shocked. “I…scare you? I didn’t know…I mean, pranks aren’t really my thing, so I’m not sure how…”

            Reiji hangs his head, keeping his eyes away from Cecil’s gaze. “It’s nothing you do intentionally, but you just have this…thing about you, like you know exactly what everyone’s deepest thoughts are. It’s scary, you know? But I also think that if you took this Master Class seriously, you’d make it big as an idol, so I wanted to get to know you better and help you out if I could. I mean, the Ice Queen you’re currently sharing a room with isn’t exactly a bouncing ball of enthusiasm, am I right?”

            An image of Camus looking down his nose, haughty and noble, springs to Cecil’s mind, and he nods slowly. “Certainly, that is true. We are not alike at all.”

            “So I wanted to support you if you needed it, but…I mean, we all have our secrets, right? I just…I didn’t want you to look too closely at me, to start telling the world all my deepest fears, so I kept pranking you to keep you off-balance. I thought it was the only way I could be friendly with you without letting you get too close. But just now, when you slipped, I realized I couldn’t be a good senpai to you if you didn’t trust me. Now, of course you wouldn’t want me to get too close to you, after all the tricks I’ve pulled on you.” He chuckles, but there’s no mirth in his laugh. “I was so worried about you getting too close to me, I didn’t think about what it would feel like if I got exactly what I wanted.” He sighs, keeping his head down, and Cecil barely catches his next words. “I don’t really like it, after all.”

            Cecil can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again, and it’s hard to swallow around the lump forming in his throat. _Damn Muses and their empathy-enhancing abilities!_ “I don’t really like it, either. I don’t want you to be scared of me for something like that. And…” he takes a deep breath. “I like you, Reiji-senpai. I’m not sure how I like you, or…you know…if anything will come of it. But now I understand why it’s been so hard to get to know you.” He adjusts himself on the floaty so he’s sitting up properly – this time, it’s his turn to return the hug, to cradle and reassure him. He pulls Reiji close and wraps his arms around him, holding the back of his head so his chin rests on Cecil’s shoulder. Cecil can feel Reiji’s heart pounding, can hear the small gasp of surprise as Cecil pulls him close, and suddenly he knows exactly what he needs to say. No cryptic riddles about the future, no insightful mysticisms – just the truth.

            “It’s ok, Reiji. I forgive you, and everything’s ok.”

            “Oh, Cesshi,” Reiji chokes, and Cecil’s not sure if the dampness against his cheek is from Reiji’s hair or from tears. “I thought I messed up again…”

_Again?_ Cecil wants to ask, but Reiji’s mouth is on his, and all thoughts of satisfying his curiosity fly out of his head. He’s no closer to unraveling the mysteries of Reiji’s past or personality, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Cecil has felt Reiji’s sincerity to its fullest and can no longer doubt him. Cecil licks at the corner of Reiji’s lips, asking to be let in, knowing that just letting him see this glimpse into Reiji’s soul is a huge sacrifice for Reiji. Even if Reiji never stops playing tricks on him from time to time, Cecil is convinced that Reiji’s actions, no matter how outlandish, will never be malicious. And if Reiji never lets him into his heart, to see everything he holds inside...well, Cecil can respect that, fully aware that his curiosity may never be satisfied. For someone used to getting everything he wants, even other people’s emotions, this will take some getting used to…but for now, Cecil is content to enjoy Reiji’s body, now that he knows his heart is in the right place.

            Their tongues intertwine, and Cecil lets his hands roam wherever they want – sliding over Reiji’s hips, gripping along his waist, trailing down his spine. Reiji’s hands are more tentative at first, like he really can’t believe he’s been accepted so easily…but then Cecil finds his short ponytail and gives it a firm tug, angling Reiji’s face so he can probe his mouth more deeply, and suddenly Reiji’s hands are everywhere, sending shiver after shiver coursing down Cecil’s spine.

            His tongue plunges deeper into Reiji’s willing mouth as his hands sweep lower over Reiji’s back, along the top of his thighs, up his abdomen, testing for his sensitivities, relishing his reactions. His fingers find a nipple, and Reiji squeaks into his mouth. Cecil smiles into their kiss and flicks the other nipple. Reiji finally pulls back for air, and the hot lusty blush on his face sends Cecil’s heart soaring and his cock throbbing. Before he realizes, his fingers wrap themselves around Reiji’s cock, flexing up and down his shaft as he alternates between squeezing and pumping. Reiji cries out in surprise, his eyes wide open. Cecil pulls him close with his free hand.

            “Please…” he murmurs into Reiji’s ear. “Touch mine too?”

            “A-ah, with…mmm…with pleasure, kouhai-cha- Oh, God, right there! Oh, that’s good…more…right there…” Reiji descends into incoherent babbling and moaning, and for a moment Cecil thinks Reiji might be feeling it too much to reciprocate… _Which is most definitely a turn-on, but if he doesn’t touch me soon – but Reiji-senpai’s voice is just so…I want to tease him more…_

            “Ah!” The sudden sensation of Reiji’s fingers curling under his balls in a firm yet gentle grip sends his own mind spiraling out of control, and it’s all he can do to not crush Reiji’s cock in a death grip.

            “Hey now, if you’re gonna scream, give me a little warning so I can move my ear out of the way?” Reiji laughs, and Cecil blushes.

            The pink plastic floaty proves itself surprisingly resilient as Cecil and Reiji rock into each other’s touches, and Cecil finds himself wishing he had more hands. This, _this_ is what he had wanted to experience with Reiji. Mutual enjoyment of each other’s company, mutual pleasure in each other’s reactions – Cecil will take this kind of experience over pranks any day. As he continues to stroke Reiji’s cock, he nibbles low on Reiji’s neck, just above his shoulder, then plants kisses all over his chest until his lips brush against his nipple. With Reiji’s breathless whimpers stoking his fire, he flicks at his nipple with his tongue, lapping up Reiji’s taste. He feels Reiji’s fingers work themselves into his hair, holding his head in place against Reiji’s chest while Reiji continues to stroke Cecil’s cock.

            Suddenly, Reiji pushes Cecil firmly away, landing him flat on his back. Before Cecil can catch his breath, Reiji’s mouth is on his, his tongue feverishly exploring every crevice as he pins Cecil to the floaty with his body. Cecil’s tongue pushes back, and he wraps his arms around Reiji to pull him closer. His body heat is intoxicating, and his weight on top of him makes him feel secure. He bucks his hips a little, grinding into Reiji’s balls, feeling his cock throbbing and twitching against his belly.

            “Do you have any idea how you look right now, Cesshi?” Reiji lifts himself off Cecil, sitting low on his hips and running his fingers over his chest, triggering shivers and goosebumps wherever he touches. The mischievous grin pulling at the corner of Reiji’s mouth makes Cecil’s heart skip a beat, and the effect of his lusty, unfocused stare goes straight to Cecil’s groin.

            “Umm...” Cecil tries to think of some clever comeback, but the hazy fog of endorphins rolling around in his brain refuses to cooperate. “I don’t know...you’re the one looking at me, so you tell me. What do I look like, senpai?”

            Reiji facepalms, laughing and sputtering out something about how impossible it is to answer that question, and the last dregs of Cecil’s worry drains away. He tips his hips sideways, causing Reiji to slide off with a gasp and a giggle.

            “Here, lie down...no, on your side...perfect.” Cecil smiles, practically wiggling in anticipation as he lies down next to Reiji so that his legs are next to Reiji’s head.

            “If you face that way, Cesshi, I can’t...oh...” Realization dawns on Reiji’s face as Cecil buries his face in Reiji’s crotch, and Cecil giggles.

            “Bet you weren’t expecting that, senpai.”

            “No, I most certainly was not.”

_Yes!_ Cecil grins as he gets to work on Reiji’s cock, wrapping his tongue around his length and drawing him in as deep as he can…then nearly bites it off in surprise when Reiji’s own tongue returns the favour.

            “Mmmph-mm!”

            “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?”

            Cecil laughs around his mouthful of cock, then slowly pulls off as he sucks, making Reiji buck. “Do you want me to stop?”

            Reiji’s tongue flicks at Cecil’s tip, sending a jolt of pleasure through him as Reiji responds, low and lusty. “Now now, I didn’t say that…”

            Cecil slowly draws Reiji back in, cupping his ass with his free arm to keep him close. He swirls his tongue around his head, lapping up the trickle of precome leaking from the tip. Admittedly, it’s taking all his concentration to keep his mouth moving – Reiji’s working some kind of magic on his cock that’s driving him out of his mind, and it’s all he can do to keep up. He gently scrapes his teeth along Reiji’s length, nibbling at his head before sucking down hard again. Reiji’s moans vibrating against his cock is as good an indication as any for figuring out what Reiji likes…if only he could concentrate…

            Reiji’s mouth is so hot, so tight – and his tongue feels like it’s everywhere, curling over the tip, pulsing around his length, twisting every which way. He doesn’t seem to be gagging – in fact, it feels like Reiji’s _trying_ to make Cecil pound his face – which Cecil is only too happy to oblige. He gives up – Reiji’s just too good, and if he’s honest, delayed gratification is not one of Cecil’s strong points.

            “Reiji-senp…Reiji…I’m sorry…Reiji…” He babbles Reiji’s name over and over again, thrusting hard into his willing mouth, overcome with lust and the need to _move_. The plastic squeaks insistently under his hips as he thrusts, and he clings to Reiji’s ass for stability. His face is flushed and hot, but it doesn’t even begin to compare to the heat rapidly building in his belly.

            “It’s too good…I can’t…REIJI!!”

            His orgasm hits him hard, and he pours everything he’s got down Reiji’s throat, thrusting through wave after wave as he screams Reiji’s name. Then, suddenly as it had begun, it’s over. Trembling, he twitches out one final spurt before his hips finally slow, and he runs a shaky hand over Reiji’s ass as he releases his grip. Reiji still has his cock in his mouth, but he’s pulling off, sucking just hard enough to clean him off without triggering any painful oversensitivity. The post-orgasm fog settling in Cecil’s brain lifts ever so slightly. _Ah…right…I was sucking on Reiji-senpai’s…_

            He scoops up Reiji’s cock with his tongue, satisfied to feel that it’s still hard – and even more satisfied to hear Reiji gasp in surprise. He starts up an easy push-pull rhythm, letting Reiji get reacquainted with his mouth before doing more.

            “Ah, Cesshi…so you didn’t forget about ol’ Rei-chan after all…mmm…keep going – just like that, keep going…”

            Cecil works on drawing him in deeper, resisting the power of his gag reflex. Reiji’s clutching at his ass, tentatively thrusting his hips to match Cecil’s rhythm. Soon, Cecil’s sucking Reiji’s cock right up to the hilt, his nose occasionally grinding into his torso as Reiji thrusts in earnest, making the plastic floaty squeak in protest, and his moans and grunts are music to Cecil’s ears. Cecil tries humming as he sucks – it felt really good to him, so maybe Reiji might like it too.

            “Ah, Cesshi, Cesshi…ugh…not yet. Wanna last…just a bit longer…” Reiji gasps out.

            Cecil’s so surprised his rhythm stutters a little, but quickly recovers. He wriggles his tongue a little, trying to find other things he can do to please Reiji. It’s only for a moment, but suddenly memories of his time as a cat filter through his mind…particularly his memories grooming himself. _Ah, my tongue was so rough back then, as a cat…too bad I can’t transform at will anymore, since the curse is gone. I wonder if that’s something Reiji-senpai would like. It would certainly be surprising and different…Oh, I really wish I had a cat’s tongue right now!_

            Perhaps it’s his feeling of entitlement coming from growing up in a royal family, or maybe because of his culture’s use of and belief in magic, but it never really occurs to Cecil that he wouldn’t get what he wished for. The Muses are certainly an ever-present entity in his emotional life – who’s to say that wishing hard enough for a cat’s tongue isn’t as impossible as it would seem?

            As Cecil slows his rhythm just long enough to reposition his head and catch his breath, the tip of his tongue tingles unexpectedly, so briefly that Cecil misses it. But as he wraps his tongue around Reiji’s cock once more, Reiji half-gasps, half-yells.

            “Wha…what did you do, Cesshi?”

            “Mmmph?”

            “Your tongue…or your teeth? Oh, never mind – just keep going! Please…need to…need you…”

            Cecil plunges down onto Reiji’s cock, starting up a furious rhythm that has Reiji groaning and begging for release as he thrusts. The tip of Cecil’s tongue, now rough and sandpapery, scrapes along his length in all the right places, adding little jolts of friction anywhere Cecil moves his tongue. All too soon, before Cecil can even think about trying to hum again, Reiji grabs hard at Cecil’s ass as his hips stutter, and Cecil suddenly has a hot mess of come shooting down his throat. It’s coming too fast, too much – there’s no possible way he can swallow it all. A large dribble of come and drool leaks out of the corner of his mouth as he pulls off, coughing.

            “Sorry, Reiji-senpai…I couldn’t hold it all. I’ll clean it up…hey, are you alright?”

            Reiji’s rolled onto his back with one arm flung over his face, his chest heaving. “I’m fine, Cesshi…more than fine,” Reiji croaks out. “What the hell were you doing? It felt…it was just so…”

            “I’m not really sure,” Cecil says, sitting up cross-legged. “At some point I was just wishing I had a cat’s tongue so I could see if you liked it.” He sticks out his tongue and licks the back of his hand. Sure enough, while most of his tongue feels normal, the tip feels exactly how he remembered from when he was a cat.

            “Oh God…so there really is some cat left in ya!”

            “It wasn’t like this before!” Cecil pouts. _Guess I need to be careful what I wish for…though if Reiji-senpai liked it this much, it’s not all bad…_

            “Sure, sure, kouhai-chan, anything you say.” Reiji’s laughing, but even Cecil can tell he’s only moments away from passing out. Certainly, he’s feeling the need to sleep – it’s long after midnight, after all. He lays down next to Reiji, resting his head on his chest and flopping one arm over his torso.

            “Just don’t tell anyone, please? I’m kind of embarrassed now…”

V_@_~~~~_@_V

            “Here, Aijima – tea. Drink it before it gets cold,” Tokiya instructs, placing a fresh cup of green tea in front of him.

            “Thank you, Tokiya,” Cecil slides the Japanese language workbook aside on the table he’s sharing with Otoya and Reiji in their room. Otoya’s practicing some medical terms for an audition and Reiji’s flipping through a tabloid magazine while Tokiya sketches at his own desk. Cecil’s grateful for their company – mostly because anyone’s company is preferable to Camus, at this point. Cecil picks up the cup, blows briefly and takes a sip.

            “Ouch! That’s hot!”

            “Oh?” Reiji lowers his magazine.

            “Are you ok, Cecil? Do you need ice?” Otoya asks.

            “Green tea is usually brewed at a lower temperature than black tea, so it shouldn’t have been that hot,” Tokiya muses.

            “I’m fine,” Cecil says awkwardly with his tongue hanging out. “I guess I just wasn’t prepared for how warm it was.”

            “Well, as long as you’re ok…wait!” Otoya’s eyes go wide. “There it is! I figured it out now!”

            “What’s that, Otoyan?” Reiji asks, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

            “Cecil’s leftover cat trait.” He faces Cecil. “In Japan, we have a term for people who can’t eat or drink things at high temperatures.” His face lights up with a grin. “We say they have a cat’s tongue!”

            Cecil’s eyes go wide, and he tries to sputter out some kind of alternative explanation as Tokiya pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Reiji, for once, says nothing, and simply raises his magazine to hide his grin.

V_@_~~~ _FIN_ ~~~_@_V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew...sorry this took so long. I'm not even going to make any promises for the next chapter - it will show up when it's done.
> 
> As for this one...my sincerest apologies to Cecil fans everywhere. I really struggled with getting into his head. He's not a character I relate to easily, but I wanted to write at least one chapter from his point of view. I really don't think I did him justice, nor was I able to emphasize his good points as well as I wanted. Plus, I couldn't resist getting whimsical at the end. I don't have any more pairings planned for him...and at this point, I feel like that's a good thing. But, if you disagree, let me know and I may reconsider!


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